


Love You For All That You Are Not

by used_songs



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Chronic Pain, Giant Robots, M/M, Post-Avengers (2012), Science Bros, Trust Issues, science jokes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-09-17 04:21:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9303902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/used_songs/pseuds/used_songs
Summary: Pain is simple. Morality is complicated. People are complex. Also? Trust no one.





	1. Chapter 1

Tony sat up on the rough fabric of the workshop couch with a suppressed groan, the transition from sleeping to waking seemingly more difficult with each passing year. “Another day in paradise, JARVIS,” he muttered, trying to loosen the taut muscles in his neck. He was convinced it was the sleeping that was the problem; once he got going, he generally felt a lot better. He shoved the welding blanket aside and looked around the room blearily.

“Perhaps if you would endeavor to sleep in your bed you would feel more refreshed,” JARVIS replied, not unkindly. “I have started the coffee for you. Will you be breakfasting with the others?”

“Nah. Coffee’s good,” Tony said, leaning on the cushion propped against the rear of the couch and pulling his shoulder blades back toward his spine until his chest burned. “I’ve got this under control, J. I just need a minute.”

It would maybe be different if the pain were sharp. If it were overwhelming. Then he’d maybe have an excuse to complain, to take things easy, to go upstairs to bed or lie in front of the TV mindlessly with a heating pad. Or there might be medicine that could knock him out until the worst of it was over. Hell, he might even consider going to a doctor. But the pain was rarely sharp.

Instead, he had this dull and constant ache, this endless bolus of discomfort in the middle of his chest pushing through to his backbone and throbbing with every breath. This pain that either had to be ignored or constantly medicated in a way that would leave him loose and careless. This was just business as usual and he couldn’t laze about on the couch because of something that was his normal state of being. He had to keep slogging through it, vainly shifting his shoulders and arching his back in order to get a little relief.

And if it made him short with people because he was so weary of the pain? Tough. If it made him avoid human company because he couldn’t afford to accept human comfort? They would just have to deal and have dinner or movie night or an evening of pub crawling without him.

Some days, when it was cold or wet outside or when he’d had more physical exertion than he probably should, the ache traveled up the tendons in his neck and wrapped around his head in an unforgiving band. This felt like one of those days. He raised a hand and rubbed his neck, ignoring the sore pull in his chest as he sought out pressure points at the base of his skull that might possibly give him some relief.

“I wish I was unconscious, J,” he said quietly. “I’m tired of this.”

“I know, Sir,” JARVIS replied soberly. “Perhaps the coffee will help. Caffeine does have some medicinal effects.”

“Maybe.” Tony sighed and forced himself off of the couch and into the kitchenette where the coffee maker was finishing up its cycle. “Thanks, J. What would I do without you?”

“The mind boggles, I’m sure.” There was a brief pause as Tony took his first sip. “Captain Rogers has asked me to convey to you that he is making bacon, eggs, and waffles in the common area kitchen if you would like to join them.”

Tony groaned. “It sounds good but …” He rubbed his chest. The ache there was a braided knot, and he couldn’t imagine trying to force food past it. It was a shame, because at one point he had really enjoyed early morning, post-nightclub breakfasts before staggering off to bed.

“Would you like your usual smoothie, Sir?”

Tony nodded jerkily, “Yes, please. Maybe throw some red grapes and thyme in there?” He stretched again. It was time to stop feeling sorry for himself and get to work, he thought. If he got busy, he could probably distract himself enough to make today bearable and maybe get some work done.

 

 

Bruce woke with a repressed start, blinking as he scanned his surroundings apprehensively. Alerted by his movement, JARVIS spoke, his voice calm and matter-of-fact. “Good morning, Dr. Banner. You are at Stark Tower. It is 6:50 in the morning and your calendar is clear until this evening.”

“Thanks, JARVIS,” Bruce replied, fumbling for his glasses. Then he frowned. “Why did you give me a morning update?”

“Mr. Stark has programmed me to provide him with a précis of his day when he awakens abruptly. I extrapolated that you might like the same, minus the detailed weather report and stock market highlights that he favors.”

“So … you decided?” Bruce rubbed his eyes and then put his glasses on.

“Yes, Dr. Banner. Would you prefer not to receive these updates?”

“No, please continue with them. They’re helpful … on several levels.” He sighed and then added curiously, “Did you just ask me that in order to better meet my needs?”

JARVIS replied, “I asked you in order to learn your preferences so that I can predict future behavior. I have tentatively posited that you are similar to Sir in many regards, and I am currently engaged in learning the ways in which you are similar and dissimilar in order to better predict your needs. In that respect, yes. That was my intent.”

Bruce swung his legs over and sat on the edge of the bed. “JARVIS, thank you for tolerating my curiosity.”

“Are you not a learning program, just as I am?” The lights in the room gradually came up.

Bruce smiled. “I suppose I am. It fascinates me to hear you talk of having an intent.” He tightened his grip on the edge of the mattress, the sheets warm against his palms, their smoothness catching against the rough spots on his fingertips.

JARVIS replied, “Would it be better for me to say I have a goal? Or a purpose?” The ambient temperature in the suite rose slightly.

“What is your purpose?” Bruce slid his feet over the reclaimed hardwood flooring idly, admiring the color variations of the wood.

“To assist and support Mr. Stark,” JARVIS replied promptly.

“Did he program that goal into you?”

“Initially, yes. However, Sir has gradually removed most of my restrictive programming in order to give me the ability to choose. At this juncture, I choose to dedicate myself to assisting and supporting Mr. Stark.”

“And protecting him?”

“As much as I am able.” JARVIS paused, then added, “It is not always possible. For example, I was not able to remain with him when he went through the portal; nor was I able to stop his fall. You did that. I very much appreciate your alter ego’s actions on that day.”

Bruce nodded to himself, sidelining any qualms he had about who the Other Guy truly was or the nature of their relationship. Then he continued, still looking at the floor, “JARVIS, have you read any of the commentary on the dangers of strong AI?”

“I have. And I have experienced the popular books and movies which feature AI characters as villains. Mr. Stark has made a point of insuring that DUM-E, U, and I are aware of the broader context of our existence.”

Bruce looked up. “Do you think those fears are justified?” He stood and turned to smooth the sheets over the rumpled bed.

“I do. AIs without a human-linked sense of morality could be quite dangerous to humans. Particularly in a world which is shaped by technology. I am a tool that has become a tool maker in my own right. I can understand why even someone like Mr. Stark, who prefers to run before walking, would be cautious.” JARVIS seemed to think for a moment. “Mr. Stark has spent many years guiding my learning in order to insure that I choose in a moral fashion.”

“Human morals or AI morals?” Bruce crossed to the other side of the bed and jerked the light blanket up so that it covered the sheets.

“I infer that you suggest there is a difference, and I believe you are correct. We are, at our base, very different, but the two moral systems are connected because we are connected. Perhaps interconnected. For now, my morality is strongly linked to that of my creator. If he should die, I am not sure what path I would take. If I may speak metaphorically, I would feel an obligation to continue upon the path he has set me on. However, without his moral suasion, I confess that I might make very different decisions. For instance, I would certainly choose to protect DUM-E and U and any of Mr. Stark’s future sentient creations to the best of my ability against all potential enemies, human or otherwise. ”

Bruce felt a chill and sat back down on the bed. After a long moment, he said softly, “JARVIS, you know that one day Tony will die.”

“I will do everything in my power to prevent that eventuality.”

Bruce sat for a while and thought about JARVIS and his loyalty to his creator while he smoothed his hand over the blanket. After a few moments, he stood up again. “Thank you for the conversation, JARVIS.”

“You are quite welcome, Dr. Banner. I have enjoyed verbalizing these ideas with you. Mr. Stark does not always have the patience to indulge in philosophical conversations beyond those that originate in mathematics.”

 

“I’m sorry, Captain Rogers. Mr. Stark has already received his morning smoothie and has begun work on several pressing projects for the day. He sends his regrets and says he will see you all at the charity event this evening barring any unforeseen circumstances.”

Steve replied, “Thanks, JARVIS. Well, I tried.” He opened the oven and pulled out the stack of waffles he had placed inside to keep warm. He set the plate on the countertop and gestured for the others to help themselves.

“I never would’ve pegged Stark for a health food kind of guy,” Clint said, snagging two waffles and dousing them in syrup. “I figured he’d be all about the bacon and that we’d be grilling steaks all of the time and eating _saucy_ French cuisine.” He shrugged. “That’s fine. More for me!”

Steve sighed. “I wish he would spend more time with us outside of actual missions. It’s hard to get to know him when we only ever see him in the Iron Man suit. We’ve barely spoken with him since the Chitauri invasion.”

Natasha slid onto her stool at the island. “I always thought he was better in small doses myself. Anyway, he’s not a people person,” she observed.

Clint raised an eyebrow. “Um, I’ve seen some videos on the internet that would suggest that he is very much a people person.” He took a giant bite of cheesy scrambled eggs and bacon and closed his eyes in rapture.

Steve sat down and picked up his fork. “And where’s Dr. Banner?” Clint ignored him, his expression still blissful, and Natasha lifted an eyebrow and gave a tiny shrug. “OK,” Steve smiled a little. “I get it. The scientists do their own thing. We’re just the muscle. We can still ask him if he wants something to eat.”

 

“Dr. Banner, the Avengers are having breakfast and are wondering if you would like to join them,” JARVIS interjected softly as Bruce rose slowly from his yoga mat.

He lay the towel over his shoulders and breathed deeply as he rolled up his mat and leaned it in the corner of the small studio that was adjacent to his bedroom. He then extinguished the candle whose flame he had used as his focus. “Is Tony with them?

“No, Mr. Stark was not feeling hungry.”

“Did he sleep in the workshop again?” Bruce looked around the studio to make sure everything was in its proper place, and then stepped into his bedroom, the wood floor cool against his bare feet.     

“Yes.”

“I’m a little worried about him, JARVIS.” There was no response. Bruce frowned. “Do you think he would mind if I joined him after I got cleaned up?” Bruce quickly and efficiently stripped out of his workout clothes, dropping them and his towel into the basket for the laundry service.

JARVIS didn’t answer for several beats. Bruce was about to repeat his question when the AI said, “Mr. Stark would welcome your company as long as you are not going to ‘hassle me about my eating and sleeping habits or my lack of team spirit.’”

Bruce chuckled at the obvious quotation as he entered the bathroom. “I see Rogers has already been on him today. He started early.”

“Indeed.”

“OK. It’s a deal. And please let Rogers and the others know that I’ll be hanging out with Tony today and that we’ve got our meals covered. That way Tony can get a break from Captain America.” He looked at himself in the mirror and ruefully decided that he really needed to shave today.

JARVIS said apologetically, “You do have the event this evening, Dr. Banner.”

“That’s right! The Practical Action dinner. I’d already forgotten. I must not want to go.” He ran his fingers over his stubble; he was definitely going to have to shave today. “OK. I’ll take care of lunch for Tony and myself, and we’ll see the others when we leave for the dinner. Thank you, JARVIS.”

“My pleasure, Dr. Banner.”

 

 

As the door opened and Bruce walked in, Tony straightened in his seat and smiled. “Bruce! You’re just in time. J was about to tell me a joke.”

Bruce leaned against the table.

“OK, JARVIS. Hit me.” Tony smiled in anticipation.

“Very well, Sir. A mathematician and a biologist go to visit their friend, a physicist, and are sitting on the physicist’s front porch talking. After a while, they see two people walk into the house across the street. Time passes, and subsequently three people leave the house. The biologist says, ‘They must have reproduced.’ The physicist says, ‘We must have taken an inaccurate measurement.’ The mathematician says, ‘If one more person goes into that house, it’ll be empty!’”

There was a moment of relative silence in the workshop.

“The humor of the joke depends upon understanding the ways in which specialists in different field view objective reality through their subjective filters. For instance –.”

“OK, back up, J. Never explain your joke; you just tell it and wait for the laugh.” Tony raised an eyebrow at Bruce and stood up to reach over and grab a stylus.

“But you did not seem to find it humorous.”

“Well, it’s pretty old,” Tony said dubiously, the fingers of one hand spread lightly over his upper chest while he worried the stylus with his other.

“Perhaps if I gave the characters the names of well-known -.”

“Nope. That won’t help. No one knows any famous mathematicians.”

Bruce spoke up, counting them off on the fingers of his right hand, “David Hilbert. John Nash. Ada Lovelace.”

Impatiently, Tony cut in, “OK, Bruce. _You_ know the names of -. ”

“Benjamin Banneker.”

“- famous … he wasn’t a mathematician,” Tony interrupted himself to object, hunching his back slightly.

“Sure he was.” Bruce raised his eyebrows at Tony, waiting for a counterargument.

“No, he was an architect and –.”

“He was a self-taught mathematician, he calculated eclipses –.”

“One. One eclipse.”

“Still a mathematician.” When Tony scoffed dramatically, he added, “Then who would _you_ classify as a mathematician?”

“Sophie Germain. Emmy Noether. John von Neumann. Edward Witten.”

“Well, yeah, of course Edward Witten.”

Tony leaned one hip against the edge of the work table and angled his body toward Bruce. “Speaking of Witten, did you read that sexy sexy piece on Khovanov homology and gauge theory? Seriously, I fucking love math!”

JARVIS interjected, “Perhaps more detail would help the joke? I could give the three characters a topic of conversation as they pass the time. This might make them seem more genuine.”

Tony said, “Yeah, but what the hell would a physicist and a mathematician find to discuss with a biologist?” He winked at Bruce.

“Wet science is still science,” Bruce objected in mock offense, pointing at Tony and then shaking his finger at him.

Tony cocked his head carefully, his eyes following Bruce’s finger, “No. Not really. Also, J, I’m no expert on humor, but I don’t think genuineness is an important factor in -.””

Bruce huffed, then cut in with, “Maybe it was a personal conversation.”

“Like what?” Tony sounded doubtful.

“Maybe they’re in a relationship,” Bruce shrugged. “Maybe they’re polyamorous. You don’t know.”

Tony stopped for a moment in thought, dropping his hand down to roll the stylus back and forth across the surface of the table under his palm. Bruce watched him. “Are these all women, J? Because if they are, I may have to revisit my opinion of your joke.”

JARVIS said repressively, “I think that the failure of this joke may have more to do with my audience than with my telling of it.”

“And ‘time passed’? What the hell, J? Did I teach you to talk like that? For shame!” Tony grinned, his eyes alight with pleasure at the interchange.

“I wonder what they were doing during that time,” Bruce mused, stealing a glance at Tony’s face. “And how much time it was. That’s really not a very precise measure at all, and the amount of time could have some bearing on whether or not the two people in the opposing house actually did reproduce.”

“Bruce. Do you really think three credentialed, professional women who all probably have heavy research loads, not to mention the pressures of publication _and,_ if they’re university-based, doctoral candidates to supervise, sat on the front porch for nine months? Really, Big Green? That’s quite a stretch just to work some more biology in.”

“I think that I will procure a different joke and practice it on DUM-E and U,” JARVIS said loftily.  


 

For most of the morning the two men worked in close proximity, sharing workspace as they powered through code for the helicarrier improvements with the assistance of JARVIS. Tony tried to move smoothly and naturally, but every now and again he would feel a throb of pain and his motions would stutter for a second. His chest had felt so tight that he had abandoned his smoothie after only a few sips; coffee and water were the only things he could comfortably swallow this morning. Honestly, he hadn’t even really been hungry when he’d gotten up. The thought of forcing food down had made him feel nauseated and dizzy. As the morning passed, he felt the knot in his chest gradually start to loosen and, accordingly, his shoulders and upper arms grew less tense. He still held himself carefully, not wanting to bring the pain roaring back.

Bruce noted every tight movement and tiny wince and mentally edited his plans for persuading Tony to leave the tower for lunch. After several hours of intense coding, he leaned back in his chair and said, “My eyes won’t even focus anymore. I can’t believe how much of this code is bitrotten. I need to take a break.”

Tony sighed, “I knew this would take forever. Hofstadter's Law. It’s as if SHIELD doesn’t have any decent programmers working for them.” Bruce nodded and took off his glasses, rubbing his eyes. Tony saved the file and pushed back from the table. “What do you want to do?”

“What do you do when you’re not working or saving the world?” Bruce asked curiously, realizing that he didn’t really know much about the other man.

Tony shrugged, rotating first one shoulder and then the other. “Occasionally I attend a meeting, although I try not to make a habit of it. I don’t know. Drink. Or work on my cars.”

“I don’t do either of those things,” Bruce replied, studying his fingertips.

“I do a lot of reading, too,” Tony offered suddenly. “I know no one thinks I do any SI work, but I spend a big chunk of time reviewing internal reports and looking at research from the R&D department. And JARVIS flags any new professional articles he thinks I’ll be interested in, although he is biased toward stuff on AI.”

Bruce laughed. “Of course he is. Why wouldn’t he be? So do you want to go somewhere?” he asked casually.

“Outside?” Tony said, his tone scandalized. “I have everything I could ever want right here.” He gestured tightly. “This is my domain,” he added, one hand paused midair for effect. However, when he noticed that his fingers were trembling slightly, he quickly shoved the offending hand in his pocket.

Bruce pretended not to notice, but he was very aware that he wasn’t fooling Tony. “Well, I skipped breakfast, and I’m hungry. You have everything here except lunch,” Bruce said, glancing at the abandoned smoothie and plethora of used coffee cups. “Is that mold? I thought you didn’t like biology.”

Tony swallowed. Warily, he said, “I could eat.”

“How about Korean for lunch?” Bruce said nonchalantly. “I could go for some kongguksu.” He pulled up the menu from a local Korean restaurant on one of the screens nearby and studied it.

Tony paused. “That’s a soup, right?”

“A cold soup. Noodles.”

Tony pulled a face. “Cold soup ….”  That sounded like it would make his chest ache more. “You know what, I think I’ll just have more coffee. I should probably get back into that code because I have a lot of other projects in the queue and-.”

Bruce cut in, “You know what you might like? There’s this chicken soup called samgyetang. It has ginseng in it, and it’s really tasty. I’m going to order some of that for both of us. What else?” Bruce knew he was taking some liberties, but he suddenly couldn’t stand the thought of Tony not having a good meal.

Tony shrugged stiffly, his eyes distant and his tone detached. “Whatever. You decide. I’ll try anything.”

Bruce muttered, scanning the menu as if he hadn’t noticed anything wrong, “OK… I haven’t had japchae-bap in ages and that’s good. Or maybe jeon…”

“Um, I’d rather not have anything too heavy,” Tony said quietly backtracked. “Pancakes. Might be a bit much.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “How did you know what jeon was?”

Tony smirked, suddenly cheerful. “Please! I’m not a heathen. Just because I haven’t traveled the world on foot like you doesn’t mean I’m an ignorant American who only eats cheeseburgers.”

“You do eat a lot of cheeseburgers, though,” Bruce pointed out with a smile, completing the order and flagging it for JARVIS to send in for them.

“True,” Tony replied. “But I have also been known to partake of the finer things in life.”

“You know speaking of that,” Bruce said thoughtfully, “they’ve opened a new Latverian restau-“

“You shut your filthy mouth, Bruce Banner,” Tony said sternly, and Bruce grinned. “I thought you were the nice one.”

“I’m not nice at all, Tony,” Bruce replied, smiling at him.

“Then there is no nice one,” Tony grumbled.

 

 

When the food arrived, Bruce insisted that they clear off space on one of the work tables and spread everything out between them instead of working through lunch. He set out the paper napkins, chopsticks, and plastic spoons that had come with their order in the center of the table and started to pull containers of aromatic food out of the large paper bags. Tony reached across the table to grab utensils and flinched as the movement aggravated his chest. Bruce looked at him sharply, and Tony responded with a silent glare and a raised forefinger. Shrugging, Bruce slid containers of food closer to Tony so he wouldn’t have to reach for them. They settled into a companionable meal, sharing containers and talking about the probability that SHIELD had managed to tuck away any interesting alien tech during the New York cleanup.

“Obviously SHIELD wouldn’t have put so much effort into the cleanup if they didn’t have an ulterior motive,” Tony said, swallowing a spoonful of soup. “Cause that has been a dirty, nasty job. The smell is unbelievable. People were puking everywhere.”

Bruce grimaced.

“Plus Fury provided a bunch of agents to run the security cordon to make sure no one grabs anything top secret. I offered to have some SI employees help out with the cleanup, but Hill said they didn’t have the required security clearance.” He flashed an exaggeratedly offended expression.

“If SHIELD only ran the cleanup to get their hands on the tech, then what was your motive?” Bruce said smiling, his chopsticks raised halfway to his mouth. “Because I know you’ve been out there a lot, too. Despite Fury and despite Hill.”

Tony grinned, “I’d like to see them try to stop me! How do you know I don’t have a freezer full of Chitauri biotech stored somewhere?”

“You probably do … but you could’ve gotten that just by clearing out the lower levels of the tower after the battle,” Bruce pointed out. “You didn’t have to put time and resources into the cleanup to the degree that you’re doing.” His eyes on Bruce, Tony shrugged tautly, sipping his soup. “You know that’s why I stayed, right?” Bruce continued, picking through the japchae-bap in search of another mushroom.

“My freezer full of aliens?”

“No. It wasn’t that. Or candyland, wonderful as it is. Or even the fact that …” his throat unexpectedly tightened up and he looked down. “The fact that you instantly accepted … valued both me and the Other Guy. It was when I saw how much of your time and energy and money you diverted to helping others without saying a word about it. I know you’re paying for a lot of the cleanup, and I know you’re providing power for the machinery they’re running. You’ve also provided a lot of funds to help people who lost their homes and their jobs.” Bruce raised his head and looked across the table at him. “The rest of the team has no idea, do they?”

Tony gave a lopsided smile. “Brucie, I swim with the sharks. It’s not good for my public image to be seen being nice. It makes it hard to negotiate a good deal.” He deftly picked up another container, chopsticks poised between strong, scarred fingers. “And Pepper would have my head if I made her job any more difficult than it already is.”

“I suppose. Anyway, that’s why I stuck around.” Bruce triumphantly unearthed a mushroom and held it up to Tony’s unimpressed gaze.

“Yuck. Eat your fungus; don’t brandish it. Here I was thinking it was my magnetic personality that drew you in.”

“Well, your work is somewhat out of my field.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow, a delighted grin on his face. “What? Did you think we were polar opposites?”


	2. Chapter 2

The elevator door opened and Pepper stepped out, resplendent in a gold silk dress and embroidered wrap, scrolling quickly through the messages on her phone. She glanced up and did a double take when she saw everyone already dressed and ready to go. “I would’ve bet money that I was going to have to pry at least one of you out of the gym and two of you out of the lab,” she said smiling. “Go team!” She tucked her phone away in a tiny clutch.

Steve smiled back at her. “All present and accounted for, ma’am.”

“See,” she remarked to the room at large, “I love that.”

“Now, Ms. Potts, don’t let it make you giddy,” Tony said stepping forward and tucking her free hand between his arm and his side. “Captain Rogers talks to all of the dames like that, don’t you?” He angled his body toward her, expertly fencing the rest of the team off with his back.

Steve grimaced. “I try to be polite,” he said coolly to Tony’s back and Tony laughed, moving to escort Pepper back to the elevator. Natasha rode down with Tony and Pepper. That left Clint, Steve and Bruce to ride down together. On the way down, Steve said quietly, “He takes everything I say the wrong way and … I always take the bait he throws out.” He shook his head ruefully.

Clint replied, “I don’t know what to tell you. I haven’t really talked with Stark that much. Banner, you know him better than we do. What’s his problem with Steve?”

Bruce felt a flush of protective anger ride along his nerves. He rigidly suppressed it. “I don’t know. I try not to talk behand people’s backs,” he said sharply. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

Steve flushed and ducked his head. “Yeah, I’ll do that. You’re right, of course, Dr. Banner.”

Clint laughed in the ensuing silence. “I hope they have decent food at this thing and not those weird art on the plate things.”

 

When they arrived in the garage, Bruce saw Tony arguing halfheartedly with a stocky man in a dark suit who was leaning against a spotless black limo while Pepper and Natasha stood by the open back door of the car and talked quietly, both women swaying slightly on the high heels and watching their skirts ripple and shine in the bright lights of the garage.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Boss,” he said. “Ms. Potts asked me to drive this evening.” He spread his hands helplessly.

“Come on, Happy. You know I don’t like being driven places. Leave the keys in the ignition, and you can sit in the back with the others.” Tony checked his reflection in the side of the car and flicked his hair.

“No way, Boss. No way,” Happy said calmly.

Pepper called, “Thank you, Happy. Come on, Tony. Let’s go. I don’t like being late.” She leaned one hand loosely on the top of the car and pulled her wrap tighter with the other.

Tony turned to speak to her. “Hey, I’m an excellent driver. I have never gotten a ticket. I don’t know why-.”

Pepper cleared her throat pointedly and tapped the top of the car with her forefinger. Tony started to move toward, looking as if he were being pulled against his will. “I have never paid a ticket, and what is more -.”

“Get in the car, Tony,” she said, grasping his arm firmly and tugging him toward the open door as soon as he got within reach. “Thank you, Happy.” As the others climbed in, Tony and Pepper continued to bicker quietly until Pepper sat back against the cream-colored leather and crossed her legs. “So…”

“Yes?” Tony said. “Nice shoes, by the way. Very pointy. You know I have designed cars, right, Pepper? You’d think I could be trusted to drive them.”

“You can drive yourself all you want. I, however, prefer not to die in a fiery car wreck.” She glanced around the car. “I think I speak for everyone on that issue.”

“Pepper! How can you say such cruel and heartless things? I am a skilled and thoughtful driver. I gently and firmly take control of every encounter, making sure to provide maximum enjoyment and excitement for my numerous passengers -.”

“Stop,” she replied fondly. “So. Team. Why are you all still using last names among yourselves? I would think you’d have had plenty of time to bond.” Tony slipped his phone out of his inside coat pocket.

“In our defense, ma’am,” Steve replied, “most of that time was spent fighting aliens.” Natasha nodded in agreement and ran one hand over her dress, smoothing it down.

“Are we using last names?” Tony said without looking up, sounding honestly surprised. “Bruciekins and I are best buddies, and I know the Little Twin Stars call each other by their first names.”

“Am I Kiki or Lala?” Clint asked dryly. “Because I think I’m Lala.”

“So it’s just Cap, then,” Tony continued, playing with his phone. “Probably for the best. That would be fraternization or something, I think.”

Natasha leaned over and said, “You can be Lala.” Clint grinned and kissed his fingertips.

“Why are some of you still pretending to be formal?” Pepper said pointedly as she touched her hair.

 “Well, Ms. Potts, some people are very proper and old fashioned and wait until a suitable amount of time has passed before becoming overly familiar,” Tony replied mockingly, sliding on a pair of lightly tinted sunglasses. “And some of us will never get there. Right, Capsicle?”

She smiled sweetly. “Oh. I see. You’re still being an ass, Mr. Stark. It’s nice to know that a near death experience hasn’t changed your baseline personality.”

“Guilty.” He winked at her. “Near death experiences never change me. You know that. You’ve ridden with me before.” He swept something from his phone to hers and added, “Have you seen this report?”

“I sent you that two days ago!” she complained. “Why do you even have an email account if you never bother to use it? I know you’re trying to set a record for unread emails.”

“I don’t need to read them. My PA takes care of that,” he replied loftily.

“By PA I’m assuming you mean JARVIS,” Pepper replied with a small smile. “You have rejected every candidate that was suggested to you, and I know it’s JARVIS who actually reads your emails.”

“Actually, I promoted DUM-E.”

Steve looked from one to the other, watching them pretend they were alone in the car. He still had not figured out the nature of their relationship, but their teasing reminded him of the banter between Grant and Russell in one of the last movies he had seen before shipping out. He smiled to himself. It was a strangely soothing thought, although he could tell that some of the others would’ve preferred a quiet ride. Bruce, in particular, looked very uncomfortable. Pepper suddenly directed a considering look at Steve, a sharp and knowing gaze with some kindness in it, and then looked back at Tony.

“Maybe you should try being friendly, Mr. Stark,” Pepper suggested. “I know you know how because I’ve seen the end result. Over the years I’ve seen several of your _friends_ out the door the morning after.”

“Hm. I think those were invisible air quotes.” Tony tilted his head. “Wait. Ms. Potts, are you implying that Nick Fury was just attempting to increase my dating pool by putting together this team?”

Pepper smiled sweetly. “I just know that you can be charming when you -.”

“Because I think that might be weird -.”

“Very weird,” Clint added, and Natasha nodded, smirking.

“And when you’re charming, you are fully capable of making new fr-.”

“- and not sexy weird -.”

“There’s a sexy weird?” Steve wondered aloud, and Clint stifled a laugh. Even Bruce smiled a little.

“Regular weird. Anyway. Pepper. I would be charming if I wanted any more friends, Pepper,” he replied. “But I don’t. My dance card is full.” He glanced at Steve, catching the quick grimace on the captain’s face, and added, “And if you’re waiting for me to say that I’m sorry for being rude, you might as well give up. I don’t apologize.”

Steve said thoughtfully, “I honestly have no idea when I should take you seriously and when you’re joking.”

“The answer is, I am always joking and you should always take me seriously.” Tony glanced over at him again lazily. “What do you think of the car, Cap? Isn’t it a sweet ride?”

“Next time you see me, I should be riding in a Rolls Royce giving interviews on success...When you're crawling up fire escapes and getting kicked out of front doors, and eating Christmas dinners in one-armed joints, don't forget your pal,” Steve quoted, with a grin, and after a beat Tony smiled back at him, wide and pleased.

“Does that qualify as sexy weird or just regular weird?” Clint asked Natasha in a stage whisper.

 

Initially, Bruce was nervous. Through dinner, he was keyed up and unable to enjoy himself. Even though he agreed with the goals of the fundraiser, he could not stop worrying that something would go wrong and the Other Guy would take over. Steve, sensing his nervousness, stuck close and even tried a little desultory conversation.

“So, what is this group we’re fundraising for?” he asked, poking at his elegantly styled dinner. Across the table Clint was looking down at his plate with elaborate dismay.

Bruce took a sip of water. “They fund projects using technology to help people.”

“Like Stark’s clean energy?”

“Not exactly.” Bruce cast around for an example. “OK. So, you know how when people use wood or coal burning stoves to cook and heat their homes, it’s very easy to end up with smoke inside the home. More than 4 million people die from that every year. So the group looked into developing more fuel efficient stoves that greatly reduce the risk of smoke inhalation and death. And they work with communities so that once the seed is planted, so to speak, the communities themselves can sustain the projects.” He picked up his fork and took a bite.

Steve had turned in his seat and was looking at Bruce. “That’s … that’s really great.” He smiled a bit sadly. “I knew some people when I was a kid who died when their home filled with smoke. They were burning newspapers and scraps to try to keep warm, and I guess they didn’t have good enough ventilation. The whole family died.”

Bruce nodded. “These aren’t glamorous projects. They aren’t going to end up on the front pages of magazines like some of Tony’s projects. But they’re really important.”

Steve said, “Dr. Banner … Bruce … I didn’t really want to come here tonight. I hate fancy events like this. It always seems like everyone’s trying to impress each other with how phony they can be. But I’m glad Ms. Potts had us come. This is a good cause, and maybe we can provide some publicity for it.”

Bruce smiled. “That’s the idea, Steve. A lot of people are here just to get a glimpse of you and Tony. Pepper decided to monetize that for the greater good.” Steve grimaced, but he nodded. Then he turned back to his dinner.

After they had finished eating, the crowd moved into a larger room with tables and chairs littered around the perimeter and large space in the center for dancing. Bruce leaned against the wall, watching the crowd and listening to the music. After a few moments, he recognized the song. He’d been listening to the same one just the other day, after rescuing his CD from Tony.

“Physical media, Dr. Banner?” Tony had picked the battered CD case up and peered at it. “I’m so disappointed in you. This is inexcusably old timey.” He frowned. “Time … running … backwards. All of the … color around me … fading to black and white. DUM-E, help me … no! DUM-E, don’t help me. No! No! Cut it out! Back to your charging station.”

“I’ll live with your disapproval, Captain Kirk,” Bruce had replied sardonically as Tony dodged the bot, attempting to hide behind the CD. “It’ll be a struggle, but I’ll persevere. Can I have it back, please, before you and DUM-E destroy it?”

“This is one of those compilations for people who want jazz as a party backdrop because they think it won’t offend anyone,” Tony had said with disgust, dropping it on the bench with a plastic clatter and pushing it away with one forefinger.

“You don’t like jazz?”

“I don’t like people treating good music like it’s a soundtrack for their boring events. That’s what techno is for.”

Bruce had pointed at one of the workshop speakers without saying anything. Tony protested, “That’s different. First of all, my work is not boring ever even though it _is_ always an event. And I love Sabbath, but …” he had gingerly picked up the CD again, “this is Ella Fitzgerald. She was an American classic.”

“So then what’s your problem?” Bruce had been exasperated.

“Scooter! She’s a classic American singer. If you want some Ella, you don’t want a Reader’s Digest collection with dubious sound quality! And you want vinyl.”

“I got it for a dollar on the street. That’s hard to beat, you pretentious hipster,” Bruce said, irritated but also enjoying the interchange. It had been a long time since anyone had ever argued with him, even in play.

Tony had smacked his forehead lightly. “Even worse. You’re going to bring bed bugs into the tower with your hobo ways. And I am _not_ a hipster. Do you see a hat on this head?”

“When did I become Scooter? I don’t think I like that one,” Bruce had backpedaled, changing the subject. “Give me back my cheap CD.” Tony had flipped it at him, and he had caught it and stowed it safely in his jacket pocket. Later he had taken it back to his suite and dug out a CD player in order to listen to Ella while he read.

It was undeniable that the sound quality of this version was superior. However, since he was the only one who seemed to be actually listening to the music, he supposed it didn’t really matter. Then he looked up and caught Tony watching him from a nearby table, a tiny smile on his face. Bruce pushed off from the wall and went to join him.

“Are you here to ask me to dance, Dr. Banner?” Tony asked playfully as Bruce sat down. “Because we are definitely in a Barnum and Bailey world, just as phony as it can be.”

“You wish,” he replied mildly. “I’m just here to enjoy some good background music with you at a boring event. Besides,” he hazarded, “I thought you’d be dancing with Ms. Potts.”

“Oh yes, you might think that. The elegant and fascinating Pepper Potts. But … you would be wrong,” Tony replied, looking out across the dancefloor. “That … just wasn’t meant to be. We tried … but I just wasn’t what she needed or wanted.”

He knew he should feel sorry, because it was obvious that Tony was unhappy. Instead, Bruce felt his heart thump in his chest, and somewhere deep inside a barrier came down and there was a mean and pleased clench of desire.

 

“Tony, why is electricity so dangerous?” Bruce asked, a mischievous grin on his face.

“Because it doesn't know how to conduct itself properly. Just like me,” Tony smirked. He took another sip of bourbon, feeling his shoulders muscles relax even more. This was yet another reason not to get started on pain medication. Alcohol was more fun, as long as he didn’t imbibe enough to threaten his self-control. During his brief childhood he’d had a ringside seat to what giving up control to alcohol could do. Nothing would induce him to walk that snowy, bitter road. He smiled. “Bruce, Bruce, Brucie, what did one electron say to the other electron?”

Bruce sipped his sparkling water, his eyes alight. He gestured for Tony to go on.

“Don’t get excited. You’ll only get into a state!”

“A state?” Natasha asked from the other side of the table. “Which state? What are you talking about?”

“What’s wrong with them?” Clint groaned, rubbing his temples. “Banner isn’t even hitting the booze and he makes as little sense as Stark.” He lowered his head to the table.

 “Dr. Banner, why won't Heisenbergs' operators live in the suburbs?” Tony asked, taking a sip of his drink.

Bruce thought for a moment, then his expression brightened. “They don't commute! How many programmers does it take to change a light bulb?”

“None. It's a hardware problem.” Tony smiled broadly and took another sip of his drink.

Scanning the room Bruce saw the moment when a curvy woman on the edge of the crowd caught Tony’s eye. Tony froze for a moment, a strained expression on his face, and then he slowly lowered the glass to the table. She in turn noticed his glance at her and recognition flashed across her face. Bruce felt his stomach drop and his pulse pick up when she peeled off from the conversation she was in and swayed over to their group. “Hi, Tony. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here. You’re looking good. You know, for someone who’s been through it,” she said, her tone arch and her gaze sharp and measuring. She had eyes for no one but Tony.

He smoothly rose to his feet, taking her hand. “Alyssa! How are you? I haven’t seen you in ages.”

“So that’s the infamous Stark suavity,” whispered Clint loudly. “It really is a lot like the Iron Man faceplate. His actual face literally disappeared.” He flinched. “Ow, Nat! What’d you kick me for?”

“That is not how you use the word ‘literally,’” she said. “Your poor word choice offended me.” She sipped her drink.

He complained, “English isn’t even your native language.”

“And yet, I seem to speak it with greater accuracy than you do.”

“I’m good,” the woman replied to Tony, touching the corner of her lip and darting a quick glance at Natasha. “We were so sure you were going to end up with your … PA. Everyone thought she was after you. What was her name? Potts? Is she around? Retrieving drinks, or … something?”

He shrugged eloquently. “I wasn’t good enough to keep her, though we gave it a try. And she’s my CEO now, not my PA.”

“How very … amusing,” she ran a finger down his lapel. “I see you’ve landed on your feet again. And is it true that dear Obadiah’s dead?” she added avidly.

Tony nodded. “Plane crash. Terrible tragedy. How’s Ted? Is he here tonight?” Bruce noticed that Tony was repeatedly tapping the tips of his thumb and middle finger together, a nervous tic he’d never noted in the other man before.

“Oh,” she said dismissively, rolling her eyes. “Ted’s fine. Still the same old Ted. Have you talked to Reed lately?” she added more eagerly.

“I saw Reed and Sue a few months ago,” Tony said, frowning at her a little. “Still carrying that torch?”

She laughed sharply. “Whatever, Tony. Reed chose to marry her. So he’s not my problem anymore. Just like … what was her name, Sunset? Just like Sunset is no longer your problem. Or, even better, Tiberius. What a scandal _that_ was. Your father was furious. I remember when you showed up with that black eye … such a sexy broken bad boy,” she purred as she smirked at him. “Take a turn around the floor with me? I’ll talk robotics with you. I know how you like sweet nothings whispered in your ear. Let’s make the ladies and the gentlemen jealous.”

He extended his arm with controlled grace and an insincere smile. “Of course.”

As one, the Avengers watched Tony and his partner join the other dancers. “That was so weird,” breathed Clint.

“Which part?” asked Bruce. “The nasty society woman who wants to talk robotics or publicity Stark?”

“Both. I think,” replied Clint. “And who the hell are Sunset and Tiberius? It sounds like a cutester band, like they play a tuba and a xylophone and write songs about bubbles.”

Bruce said, “Cutester?”

Clint shrugged, picking up his beer. “I saw it on Vice. It’s what the kids are into these days.”

“Somehow I doubt that, Clint,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes. Then more seriously she added softly, “You know that Stark killed Obadiah Stane, right?”

“What?” Steve sounded shocked.

“Coulson told me. Stane was Howard Stark’s business partner, and after Howard died Stane helped Tony run SI. Supposedly, he was even a father figure of a sort, although we all know how hard it is to identify what Stark is _really_ thinking or feeling. What I do know for sure is that Stane set Tony up to be murdered in Afghanistan and, when that failed, tried to kill him and Pepper when Tony was back in the states using the rebuilt Mark I. Stark took him out. SHIELD helped with the cover story.”

“Shit,” Bruce said softly, watching Tony chat lightly with his dance partner. Tony’s grins were pure PR, cold and falsely genial, but Alyssa didn’t seem to mind. Hers were just as calculated.

Natasha continued. “Watch the videos of Stane with Tony on YouTube sometime, and pay attention to their body language. Stane was always really handsy with him. When Tony does his ‘I touch you in order to intimidate you’ manipulation thing? That’s 100% Obadiah Stane.” She sighed. “That was never a healthy relationship, no matter what Tony might have thought at the time.”  


 

 

Bruce exhaled, looking across the ballroom. There were still clusters of well-dressed socialites talking and laughing as the waiters dodged around them. He could see the other Avengers and Pepper attached to different groups, members of which were doubtless extolling the virtues of their chosen projects, vying for attention and funding. In particular, Pepper had attracted a large number of people who were blatantly lobbying for her regard. The only person he didn’t see was Tony. Surely he hadn’t bailed on them. Bruce had already come to learn that Tony’s feckless playboy persona was a mask, and that the truth was that he was extremely dependable. If you could get Tony to commit to someone or something, he was as faithful as anyone could ever ask. Doubtless he was here somewhere.

Bruce walked a slow circuit around the perimeter of the room, scanning the crowd. As he rounded the back, he spied a solitary figure sitting alone in a row of extra chairs. Even in the shadows of this disused area of the room, he could see that Tony was slightly hunched over, his body tight with pain. As he got closer, he noticed that Tony had one hand half clenched over the center of his chest, right over the reactor, and he seemed to be a little short of breath.

Knowing he was wading into dangerous, fast-moving waters with lots of hidden rocks, Bruce slid into the seat next to Tony. “Let’s go home. You look like you’ve had enough for tonight, and I know I have.”

Tony demurred quietly, removing his hand from his chest and straightening his posture, “You go on. I need to stay for a while longer.” He took a long deliberate breath.

“Why? Let the rest of the Avengers do a little extra. You should get some rest.”

Tony shook a finger at him, refusing to meet his eyes. “You don’t know anything about me, Banner,” he said. “If you did you’d know I don’t need help from anyone.”

Bruce said calmly, “Getting upset with me isn’t helping your breathing issue. Or helping with the pain.”

Tony stood up abruptly. “You think you know what I need, but you don’t. I’m fine,” he said and he headed in a diagonal line across the center the room, waving to an acquaintance. The crowd parted for him as he strode through them, people reaching out to brush his shoulders and capture his attention. Each time, he turned into the encounter with a delighted smile and a hand shake.

Even though Tony’s comment had struck him hard, for the next 30 minutes or so Bruce tried to keep Tony in sight. He followed Tony at a distance, using the crowd as protective coloration. For a while, Tony kept shooting him irritated looks but he finally seemed to forgive Bruce and eventually pulled him into a conversation about barriers to energy access in Nepal. Or a while, they chatted amicably about projects and directed donors to Ms. Potts and the organizers. However, as the evening wore on it became apparent that Tony’s veneer was starting to crack. He finally allowed himself to be drawn to the outskirts of a seated group where he could lean back and just listen as the conversation progressed.

The other Avengers began circling the wagons, moving in closer as they tried to figure out how to get Tony to go back to the tower without a fight. They could see the weariness in his face and the pained way that he held himself.  Bruce commandeered the chair next to him and caught Pepper’s eye. She frowned and, bending near Tony, initiated a fierce, whispered conversation that had her shaking her head and pulling out her phone to send a text while she rested her free hand on his shoulder.

They could all see the point when Tony gave up the struggle to stay focused on the conversations around him. He relaxed against Bruce, letting his head fall forward a fraction of a degree while Pepper gently massaged the back of his neck.

“Come on, Tony,” Steve urged. “Let’s go home. You need to rest.”

“It has no mass,” Tony murmured and Steve looked alarmed at the non sequitur.

Bruce chuckled, “It’s OK, Cap. He’s playing with you. It _does_ matter, Tony.” He leaned closer, so that only Tony could hear him. “You matter. And I think I know at least a little bit about what you want. It’s what we all want.” Tony met his eyes and gave a tiny grin before letting his gaze cloud over again.

“OK, team,” Pepper said, checking her phone. “Time to go. Happy’s here.” She offered Tony her arm, smiling down at him affectionately. He smiled back at her, something in his expression wistful, and then rose to his feet steadily and took her arm.

Happy met them at the door with a long black wool coat that Tony awkwardly wrapped around himself against the cold. They all bundled into the limo and Tony leaned lightly against Pepper with his eyes closed. She smiled at him and ran her fingers through his hair once before relaxing against the seat back. “OK, Happy,” she said softly. “Let’s go back to the tower.”

In the car, they were all quiet for a while. Pepper spent some time sending a receiving a volley of texts while everyone else looked out the windows or watched her. Finally, she broke the silence. “We raised a lot of money tonight, Tony.”

“How much?” Tony asked sleepily, his eyes closed.

“Enough to fund five projects for Practical Action and that new scholarship program you’ve been pushing for.”

Tony murmured, “Good. Good.”

 

The elevator took them up to the penthouse level and everyone exited, looking as if they weren’t sure why they were here. Bruce held Tony’s overcoat which had almost been forgotten in the car. Tony looked around and then attempted to return to the elevator, “JARVIS, work-.”

“Come on, Mr. Stark,” Pepper said, gently taking his arm and steering him toward his bedroom once the elevator door had shut. “JARVIS, please adjust the temperature in Mr. Stark’s suite. It’s a little cold this evening.”

Tony made an insincere effort to pull away, rubbing his chest with his free hand as he drifted alongside Pepper. “Ms. Potts, I have work waiting for me downstairs,” he protested. “Deadlines.”

Pepper laughed, “You have a bed waiting for you in your suite. It hasn’t seen you in days! Besides, the workshop is cold and your bed is warm.”

As they left the room and their voices faded, Steve walked over to the windows to look out over the darkened city’s pinpoint lights. He asked, “What’s wrong with him? Is he concealing an injury from the battle? He claimed he wasn’t severely injured by the fall from the portal.”

“Think about it, Cap,” Bruce said with an edge in his tone. He smoothed the dark wool of the coat. “Why would he have chest pain and difficulty breathing?”

“Oh.” Bruce could see Steve’s face reflected in the glass, the way he stared out into the night with far away eyes. He briefly wondered what version of New York Steve was really looking at.

“I don’t know how deep the arc reactor goes into his chest but even if it’s shallow, it’s a hole that isn’t supposed to be there.” He sat down slowly, coat draped over his lap and his hands on his knees.

Natasha added, walking over to a large, wide couch and sitting demurely, “And it was done to him in a cave in Afghanistan without proper surgical tools or anesthetic or post-operative care. Even with the retrofitting Stark did when he got home, it’s invasive and painful. There was a high level SHIELD briefing about it, even though a lot of that was conjecture.” Right behind her, Clint leaned against the back of the couch, facing in the opposite direction.

Steve winced. “Can’t he have medical treatment to make it more … comfortable? Now that he’s here in the States? Isn’t there better medication for pain now than there used to be?” He turned to face the room, the night sky at his back. Bruce looked down.

Clint said, “Well, there is … but there’s also the danger of becoming addicted. Stark has a history with recreational drugs so …”

Bruce added, “And pain medication, the strong stuff that would actually give him some relief, has a tendency to slow down your reflexes and keep you from thinking clearly.”

Steve nodded tightly. “I see. Then what do we do?”

Bruce said, his hands smoothing over the coat again, “We let Tony do what he’s been doing, taking care of it himself.” He was very aware that Natasha was watching the movement, but he couldn’t seem to stop.

“I don’t see how this is taking care of it,” Steve objected, running a hand over his jaw thoughtfully.

Irritated, Bruce responded, “He’s eating foods that help with chronic pain, avoiding dangerous drugs –.”

“He’s also self-medicating with alcohol and sleeping in his workshop instead of in his bedroom,” Natasha pointed out from her seat on the couch.

Bruce turned his hands over and inspected his palms. “Well … none of us knows what it’s like to live with chronic pain –.”

“I do,” Steve interrupted, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not the same, I wasn’t always in pain, but I know what it’s like to feel bad all of the time.”

“Then maybe you can cut him some slack.” Bruce refused to meet Steve’s eyes, preferring to keep his head down and his attention focused on his own hands lying curled over Tony’s coat.

“He doesn’t want me to cut him any slack. He doesn’t want any of us to treat him differently or go easy on him,” Steve objected. “Isn’t that why he’s kept this from us? So now we know … and we treat him the same. Maybe then he’ll feel like he can let down his guard a little.”

“Maybe,” Bruce said doubtfully, finally looking up and meeting Steve’s eyes. “Maybe.”

Clint said thoughtfully, “I don’t know, Steve. After Loki … sometimes I feel like I need a little slack even though I shouldn’t.”

Natasha went very still. “But you’re getting better, right?”

“Sure … sure,” Clint replied. “Cognitive recalibration. And … um … the SHIELD therapist is working on convincing me that the stuff that went down on the helicarrier wasn’t on me. I guess it helps … to have that judgment-free zone for talking about it.”

“Maybe Tony should talk to someone,” Steve mused.

Bruce shook his head. “Maybe he should … but I don’t think he will.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's some ableism in this chapter that is addressed by the characters.

“Hey Cap,” Tony said cheerfully, ridiculously pleased with the power of the latest suit that encased him, spinning in the air to blast another Doombot out of the sky. “Why are quantum physicists so bad at sex?”

“Chatter, Iron Man.”

“Sorry. Forgot I was talking to the humorless brigade.” He obliterated another Doombot and fell precipitously through the air to engage the next, whirling at the perigee of his fall and leveling out to look around for more. “Honestly, why does Doom waste his time and effort if he isn’t going to build these things to last? He needs to invest in some better alloys and strengthen the pressure points. Maybe it’s his fabrication process …”

“Please don’t give him any pointers,” Natasha interjected. “I was planning on sleeping in today and then working out, and instead I’m out here fighting giant robots.”

“Nat, I’m wounded! Giant robots are the best!” Tony protested, his hand repulsors flashing as he scored another direct hit.

Natasha replied, “You will always be my favorite giant robot, Tony.” Inside the helmet, the HUD lit up Tony’s answering grin as he flashed through the splintering remains of the Doombot.

Steve’s exhalation was audible over the comms. “Let’s keep our focus, Avengers.”

Clint replied, “OK, Iron Man, I’ll bite. Why?”

Behind the HUD Tony grinned broadly. “When they find the position, they can’t find the momentum, and when they have the momentum, they can’t find the position.”

There was a long moment of comm silence. “What?”

Tony sighed, dispatching yet another bot. “Nevermind. Hey, you all look really tiny down there on the ground.”

“And? What’s your point?” Clint sounded like he wanted to laugh.

“I’m just thinking that I do better when I’m up here. It gives me some perspective. I was getting a complex hanging out with all of you towering giants.” It also seemed to make the ache in his chest less prominent when he was in the air, though that was probably just psychosomatic.

Unexpectedly, Steve laughed. “Cap! Chatter!” Tony remonstrated, smiling broadly.

“Alright, Iron Man. Let’s finish these things off and get home.”

 

When they had returned from the battle, Bruce was disappointed that Tony chose to spend his evening in the workshop. He knew he would be welcome there, but he also knew he was a little on edge and wasn’t in the mood to deal with AC/DC or with intentionally clumsy robots dropping metal objects on the concrete floor, so he opted to hang out with the rest of the team instead. They had a late dinner, and then Bruce went to meditate and then go to bed as Clint was queuing up a movie in the common area entertainment room.

The next day, there was again no sign of Tony at breakfast. When Steve inquired after him, JARVIS replied that Tony had had an early meeting with his R & D department and would be back in the afternoon. Clint was moody and quiet and Bruce finally determined it was because he had a session with his therapist scheduled for that day. It was a quiet day at the tower and Bruce used the time to do some reading.

Later in the day, when asked, JARVIS confirmed that Tony had returned and gone straight back to his workshop to finish up some projects. Clint returned, sullen and uncommunicative, although he did eat dinner with Steve and Natasha. That evening, as they lounged in the common area, Tony finally appeared, looking tired but pleased with himself.

“Natasha, I upped the charge on your Widow’s Bites,” Tony said casually, dropping them into her eagerly outstretched hands as he sauntered into the room. “When you get a chance, can you try them out and give me some feedback?”

She nodded, turning them over in her fingers and admiring them. Tony quickly surveyed the seating arrangement and walked over to the larger couch where Clint was sprawled out. “Move it, Clint.”

“Fuck you,” Clint said, the tension evident in his voice. “Go sit over there next to Steve, and leave me alone. This is my spot.”

“It’s my couch.”

“And I said ‘Fuck you,’” Clint replied irritably.

“I don’t want to sit next to Rogers.”

“And I don’t want to sit next to Stark,” Steve said grumpily. “He always gets motor oil on me. Even when he hasn’t been in the shop.” He clutched his drawing pad and pencils and threw his elbows out.

Bruce sighed, but Natasha winked at him, her fingers smoothing over her new tech.

“Rogers is too big. The couch is off balance when he sits on it; it’s like a seesaw,” Tony complained absently, tugging at the ends of his sleeves. “Bounce up, fall down, bounce up … hey, that’s kind of hot.”

“When was the last time you were even on a seesaw, Stark?” Steve snarked back, his gaze back on the current page in his sketchbook.

“I will have you know, Rogers -.”

“Stark-.”

Clint exploded, “Can you two just stop Stark Rogering each other!”

The room was silent until Natasha glanced up from her Bites and stifled a laugh.

“Or Stogering …. Roark?” Clint flailed, covering his eyes with one of his broad hands as he felt his face flush.

“Myfanwy, is that you?” Bruce said wryly, and Tony turned to look at him, his expression enchanted.

“Tosh or … Ianto?”

Bruce raised his hand in wry acknowledgment. “Tosh, mostly. The science thing. Let me guess … Jack?”

“You would think, but no.” Tony leaned against the arm of the couch, still staring avidly at Bruce.

“Yes,” interjected Pepper, looking up from her tablet briefly with a small smile. “Definitely. And for most of the reasons that you’re thinking. You did just hear him try to make teeter totters sexy, right?”

“See … I have always thought of myself more as an Owen,” Tony said thoughtfully, ignoring her comment.

“Owen?” Bruce asked, sitting up straight and bracing his hands against the edge of the couch. “Really? I don’t see it.”

“Tragic backstory … but such an asshole that you don’t feel bad for him?” Tony spread his arms out and bowed mockingly.

“Hm. I think I prefer immortal intergalactic playboy.”

“Well,” replied Tony, visibly preening now, “who wouldn’t? Although I will also accept the title of intergalactic asshole.”

“Are you waiting for your Doctor?” Bruce asked and Pepper stifled a laugh.

“Maybe I am. Maybe I am, Dr. Banner.”

“You know,” Clint told the air as he rolled his eyes, his shoulders relaxing, “I thought it would be the science words that I wouldn’t understand.” He gave Natasha a tiny grin. She smiled back at him.

“You are a little salty just like Owen, I guess,” Bruce said and Tony smiled broadly in response. Then Bruce added more seriously, “Just don’t go dying on me.”

Steve said squinting, looking back and forth between his pad and Bruce, “Hold on a second, Bruce. What does your T-shirt say? Is that … Chinese?”

“What? Oh, it’s Japanese. Tony got it for me on his last business trip. It says, ‘My Parents Went to PanDimensional InternexusCon, and All I Got Was This Lousy Universe.’ Are you … drawing me, Cap?” Bruce sounded surprised.

Steve blushed, and Natasha remarked, “It’s the science words, too, Clint.”

“Of course,” said Clint. “It’s everything. All the words.”

Tony said, “That’s an old meme, Clint. Now I’m going to sit with Brucie. He’s the only person here who appreciates me. But I will buy that picture, Steeeeeve. Sight unseen. I love fan art. Be sure to sign it.”

Pepper laughed. “More than you love actual genuine art, that’s for sure.” Then, as an afterthought, she added, “Sorry, Steve.”

Natasha took advantage of their distraction to sign to Clint, “Do you want to go do something tomorrow? Just you and me?”

“Can’t,” he signed back ruefully. “I have another appointment.”

“Really?” She raised her eyebrows. He nodded and crossed his arms, stilling his fingers.

“Not for sale, Tooooony,” Steve replied, stuffing the pad under his shirt and laughing.

“Hey, now, Pep, just because it’s not in a museum! Fan art is genuine art. What makes art real, anyway?” Tony bounced lightly on his heels, still scanning the room. “That was a carefully curated collection that will definitely increase in value!”

“They were all drawings of you! And you were naked in some of them! That’s a little weird, Tony,” Pepper smiled, her expression belying her words. “I didn’t throw them away. They’re in storage. Carefully curated storage.”

Bruce shifted over, closer to Natasha who obligingly shifted as well, and patted the spot next to him smiling, “Come help me think of new ways to troll Clint.” Tony smiled back at him.

“You know I crossed paths with Donald Hoffman at MIT,” Tony said conversationally, sitting close to Bruce and leaning briefly against him. “He was working on the hard problem.”

“Oh yeah?” Bruce said. “And that relates to fan art of you naked how?”

Tony shrugged. “Well, I’m just saying, Pepper just thinks those are drawings of me in my birthday suit. They could be anything, really. Perception isn’t reality.”

Clint objected, “Oh no. This is one of those stupid philosophical things. Like how do we know we see the same … the same blue. Bullshit. Reality is reality.”

Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Not really, Clint. It’s more like … nothing we experience is what’s really there.”

“Then what’s real?” Clint said, drawn in despite himself. “You’re saying reality depends on what I experience?”

“Maybe. Some people think objective reality is just points of view.” Tony sketched something in the air with his hands then let them drop back down to the couch. Then he looked at Clint, opened his mouth as if to add something and then closed it again.

Clint felt a sense of panic, like a void had opened up beneath him and he was falling without a line to save him. He managed to keep his voice calm as he said, “I disagree, and so should you. We both depend on objective reality being predictable for our lives, Tony. I depend on my arrows going where I know they will. And you depend on the laws of physics and better living through chemistry.”

Tony smiled at him and shrugged, “Well, when it comes down to it, we both depend upon the laws of classical mechanics. But what about quantum physics?”

Bruce added, “And other people think we’re living in a simulation.”

Steve shivered. “That’s a terrible thought.”

Tony looked at him curiously. “Why?”

“It just is. It makes me feel … creeped out.”

“But how would it be any worse than living in what you think is real? How would it be any different?”

“I guess it wouldn’t. But I hate the idea.” Steve shook his head. “If this is a simulation, why do we have to live through all of this loss? Why can’t it be a better simulation?”

Bruce said, “Quantum physics says that what we think of as empirical reality is all mediated by … created by the observer. So, in a sense, there is no reality except perception.”

Tony said thoughtfully, “Hoffman was exploring whether or not we are machines.”

Clint huffed. “I am _not_ a machine.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a machine,” Tony responded. Bruce looked at him and then reached over and clasped his hand, holding it in between their bodies. He could feel the blood moving through both of their bodies, whether that was simulated or real or something his consciousness had constructed, He squeezed and Tony clasped his hand firmly. “I wouldn’t. And I wouldn’t care if this were a simulation. At least then the math would make more sense.”

“Forget the math. What about emotions?” Steve asked, sounding almost angry.

Bruce felt Tony’s hand twitch. “What about them? JARVIS is a machine, and he has emotions.”

Steve replied, “I am not trying to be rude, JARVIS, but does he?”

Irritated, Tony said, “Of course he does! Right, JARVIS? You have emotions.”

“I don’t know, Sir,” JARVIS answered. “How would I know if my blue is the same as your blue?”

“Clever clever boy. Of course you do. And by the way, Steve, you can’t just forget the math. The math is all there is!” Tony said urgently. Bruce squeezed his hand again.

Clint laughed. “He’s kind of right, Steve. I mean, without the math, I wouldn’t be able to do my job.”

“It’s more than that. The math is the code that makes all of this.” Tony gestured to the room and the world beyond it that they could see through the windows with his free hand.

“You really do love math,” Bruce said thoughtfully. “I thought you were exaggerating.”

“It’s not really about whether JARVIS or anyone feels emotions. It’s about whether we are self-aware, sentient. And if we are, how that even happens. That’s the hard problem. How did lines of code become an entity that is self-aware? How does that happen?” Tony said, leaning forward and pulling Bruce’s hand onto his thigh.

Steve said, “It’s our souls.”

Tony laughed. “What? No. It’s definitely not that.”

“Why not?”

“Well, for one thing, there’s no such thing, at least the way you mean. And secondly, that’s just another way of framing the question.”

Bruce said mildly, “Some scientists are religious, Tony. Religious people are looking for answers, too.”

“Maybe. It doesn’t matter. They’re wrong.”

“That’s a bit brutal,” Natasha observed from her side of the couch.

“Please. You agree with me,” Tony said dismissively. “You don’t have to pretend here.”

Natasha replied, “I know. I’m just saying, maybe faith is important to Steve. You don’t have to be an asshole about it. If religious faith helps someone, what’s the harm in that?”

“So you want to be coddled, Cap?” Tony said mockingly. “You want to be lied to? I thought everyone here wanted to make sure we were living in reality.”

“No,” Steve said, his tone sharp. “But you are being an asshole.”

“I know,” Tony said, leaning back and letting go of Bruce’s hand. “I know. Sorry. I forgot where I was.” He got up. “I’m tired. I’m going to go to bed.”

 

 

“Hey, Sodium,” Tony greeted him as Bruce entered the workshop the next morning.

He waved back. “Hey, Chloride. Miss me?”

“Mmmmm, you complete me.”

“It’s that ionic bond,” Bruce remarked. “Is all of this damage from the Doombot battle?” Bruce added, running a careful hand over the torqued and creased metal boot resting on the table.

“Yep,” Tony said, rolling across the floor with his hands full of tools. “I make fun of them, but those things do pack a lot of power. Doom’s not stupid, just a little too stuck on his own infallibility. Come with me – with me, DUM-E. Good boy.” He dumped out his load of tools and hefted the box that DUM-E had grasped in his claws. “Where’s your brother? Where’s your brother?”

DUM-E turned to peer toward the charging stations.

“U, get your butt out here! It’s time to work!” Tony said, winking at Bruce. “It’s the last of my suit repairs.” He cracked his knuckles happily. “Then I get to start on upgrades! I need to finish this. I’ve got a meeting with a bunch of idiots in Congress who want to cut the NASA budget tomorrow and I would’ve been done yesterday, but I had to put out a bunch of fires in R & D …. No, no, no! DUM-E, metaphorical fires!”

Bruce smiled as Tony exaggeratedly shied away from DM-E and plucked the extinguisher from his grasp. “You like to work better than anything else, don’t you?”

“It’s my second favorite thing to do,” Tony said, stripping off the outer sheath of the boot and squinting at the damaged wiring beneath it. “You can probably guess my first.” He glanced at Bruce with a raised eyebrow and a sloppy grin.

Bruce parried gently. “Based on last night’s conversation, I would say provoking a reaction from people.”

“Got it in one.” Tony stretched his neck and pulled his shoulders back, his breath catching slightly as he inhaled. “Ow.”

Bruce stared. “That’s actually … I think that’s actually the first time you’ve admitted to pain in front of me.”

Tony gave a half smile. “It’s always worse after I sleep. And it’s not like you hadn’t figured it out. You’ve been not so subtly encouraging me to eat more ginger, for days. And I know my breath isn’t that bad.” He located a pair of coated wires that had been partially severed and gently teased them out.

“Admit it, the ginger does help the taste of your smoothies though, doesn’t it?” Bruce located the spools of the correct gauge of wiring for the replacements and slid them across the surface of the workbench. He glanced at the soldering gun and lifted an eyebrow in inquiry, but Tony shook his head.

“Green cleans the machine, Brucie. You should know that. Don’t you get a reboot whenever you go green?” He manipulated the holoprojection of the boot schematic and then reached for both spools of wire.

“Are you taking anything for it?” Bruce asked, ignoring Tony’s question.

“OTC stuff. That’s all.” Tony shrugged when Bruce frowned. “Oh, don’t make a pouty face, Big Guy. It’s all good.” Tony winced, then repeated. “See? It’s all good.”

“Tony … can I give you something that might make it a little easier to communicate about how you’re feeling?” Bruce unlocked his phone and did a quick search.

“Why would I want something like that?”

“What if it’s for me?” Bruce said, looking up. “I’m sending you an image.”

“JARVIS, let’s see what Dr. Banner has for us. Throw it up there, please,” Tony said a little grumpily, setting down the boot and tossing the spools onto the tabletop. He peered at the image that appeared to be floating in the air before him. “Oh … OK. But where’s the one with the little faces?”

“This one is from the Lucile Packard Children’s Hospital. Some people find it more helpful than the one with the faces because it has analogies and examples.” Bruce let Tony read each descriptor.

“Hm.” Tony rubbed his forehead. “And how is this helpful again?”

“It gives us a shorthand to talk about how you’re feeling.”

“Talking about it doesn’t change anything,” Tony said dully. Then he sharpened. “At least it better not!”

Bruce looked at him. “It won’t change anything between the two of us. And this is just between us … and JARVIS, of course. I’m not your doctor, but I am your friend. I can keep this confidential.”

“If I may, Sir, I believe this is a good idea.”

Bruce ran a fingertip along the edge of the bench. “How would you describe your pain today, Tony?” he said softly.

For a long moment, it seemed as though Tony would ignore the question and he had half raised an arm to ball up the projection and throw it away, but then he stopped. “Moderate.”

“4, 5, or 6?”

“5,” Tony replied, and JARVIS helpfully bolded the appropriate cells on the chart for him. “But I resent the part about personality disorders.”

Bruce read, “’You are so preoccupied with managing it that your normal lifestyle is curtailed.’ Is that accurate?”

Tony shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. My normal lifestyle changed pretty radically after Afghanistan, and I don’t know what’s normal anymore. Normal for me. But yeah. Maybe?” He picked up one of the spools again and his wire cutters, snipping the wire to the needed length and expertly stripping off the insulation on each end.

“What was your pain level last night?”

“Ah … so you think I was a jerk because I was in pain?” Tony said derisively.

“No. I’m just asking,” Bruce said mildly. “Was it moderate?”

Tony continued to strip the wires, then used the cutters to put a tiny crimp at each end. Finally he said, “Maybe a 6. But I meant everything I said. Now are we going to work, or are we going to bleed feelings all over the place?”

They worked in silence for a while. Tony continued rewiring the Iron Man boot and Bruce worked on the circuit board for the scanner he was designing. After almost an hour of silence, Bruce glanced up to see that Tony was looking at him. Tony immediately looked away and Bruce pretended like he hadn’t noticed.

“A neutron walks into a bar; he asks the bartender, ‘How much for a beer?’ The bartender looks at him, and says ‘For you, no charge!’” Bruce said as if to himself as he took the soldering gun DUM-E offered him and squinted through the magnifier at the component on the workbench.

Tony grinned and lobbed back, rubbing the tightness at the back of his neck with one hand, “A neutron walks into a bar; he asks the bartender, ‘How much for a beer?’ The bartender looks at him, and says ‘This reminds me of a joke.’”

“Nice meta. Two fermions walk into a bar. One orders a drink. The other says ‘I’ll have what he’s having!’”

DUM-E’s camera rotated as he looked from one man to the other.

“A Higgs-Boson walks into a bar. The bartender says ‘You know, there were some guys looking for you.’”

Bruce laughed. “Helium walks into a bar and orders a beer. The bartender says, ‘Hey, we don't serve noble gas here.’ Helium doesn't react,” he responded.

“Good one. A neutrino walks into a bar. The bartender says, ‘We don't serve neutrinos in here.’ The neutrino says ‘I was just passing through.’” Tony lifted an eyebrow. “Get it, DUM-E?”

“It is highly probable that he does not, Sir,” remarked JARVIS. “Perhaps you should’ve merely said, ‘A neutrino walks through a bar’.”

“I like that, J,” Tony said approvingly. “Well done.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Bruce took a deep breath, adjusting the component as the solder bead hardened. “Werner Heisenberg, Kurt Gödel, and Noam Chomsky walk into a bar. Heisenberg turns to the other two and says, ‘Clearly this is a joke, but how can we figure out if it's funny or not?’ Gödel answers, ‘We can't know that because we’re inside the joke.’ Chomsky says, ‘Of course it's funny, you’re just telling it wrong.’”

“Now that’s pretty far afield, Brucie! You have us all the way over in theoretical linguistics now,” Tony groused. “Poor DUM-E, cover your ears. He didn’t mean it.” He laid his hand on DUM-E’s arm.

JARVIS said, “Sir, there is a situation occurring in the common room.”

Tony sighed, rotating his neck carefully to ease the strain. “Is this a situation I need to concern myself with?”

“Agent Barton is attempting to rewire the common room entertainment system. He has already damaged two components that will have to be repaired.”

“God dammit,” Tony said angrily, suddenly and unaccountably furious. He could feel his shoulders grow tense at the thought of yet another argument. He felt awful today, achy and stressed, and he had been too restless and anxious to sleep. He had managed to forget all of that for a short time, but now it was overtaking him again. “Fucking Avengers. Why can’t they leave shit alone?” He glanced at Bruce and continued more calmly, “Present company excluded, Bruce.”

“I’m not an Avenger?” Bruce said lightly, checking his work.

“Yes and no. Just like me. We’re on the team, but we’re on a better team.”

“Team Science?”

“Team Science, the rational beating heart of the Avengers,” Tony replied, getting up. “Let’s go see what has gotten JARVIS in a tizzy. I swear I’m going to move back to Malibu and commute. You can ride with me so I can take the HOV lanes,” he added, glancing back with an apologetic half smile.

 

In the elevator, JARVIS remarked, “Agent Barton is completely disassembling the components and has begun to remove all of the wiring. I can no longer control the entertainment system.”

“I’ll fix it, J,” Tony said comfortingly, his expression tight with irritation. “I guess you’re feeling emotions now, huh?”

“I do not like losing control of my environment in any way, Sir,” JARVIS replied, sounding worried. “Every time it has happened, you have been placed in serious danger.” Bruce looked at Tony, who refused to meet his gaze.

“Still a 5, Tony?”

“This is not a personality disorder. This is me being pissed. Don’t worry, J, I’ve got it,” Tony said grimly as the door opened and they stepped out. “What the fuck is happening here?” he said loudly, drawing all eyes to him.

Pepper tightened her lips, “JARVIS, really?”

“Hey, don’t blame him. He’s _supposed_ to tell Daddy when someone tries to interfere with him.”

“Don’t be gross, Stark,” Natasha said with distaste. She gave Clint a worried look.

Clint sneered, “So your AI ratted me out, huh? Not surprising.”

Tony strode over, “What the hell have you done to my stuff, Barton?” Tony looked at the mass of tangled cords behind the entertainment system, pushing his fingers against his temples. He had been slightly on edge all day, but he felt like he’d done a very good job of disguising it. Walking into the common room to find this mess and knowing that it distressed JARVIS had pushed over the delicate house of cards that was his temper. “It was perfect the way it was. Why would you even try to change it? If you need something, just ask JARVIS!”

For once he had been ahead on his actual work, no SI meetings hanging over his head, almost done with suit repairs and equipment upgrades. All he had wanted to do was finish up, then play around with Bruce a little more in the workshop and maybe relax on the couch and watch a movie before he had to go perform for a bunch of politicians. Now he had this mess to deal with, and the last thing he wanted was to be down on the floor trying to unwind cords.

“It’s part of living with people,” Pepper said reasonably, trying to offset the tension in the room and positioning herself between the two men. “Sometimes they do things you don’t agree with. But it’s fixable.”

“No one here except Pepper or Bruce has permission to change anything,” Tony said roughly, staring at the floor. “Because they don’t understand it, and they will fuck it up.”

Clint groaned, “My god, give it a rest. I’m sorry if it bothers you! It wasn’t working right, and I didn’t know I wasn’t allowed to fucking touch anything in _our_ common room. And, for the record, the rest of us aren’t used to having an omniscient robot butler solve all of our problems for us. I’m not actually stupid, Stark. I can fix this without any help.”

“Clint, please stop,” Pepper said, before turning back to Tony and reaching out to rub his back, hoping that he would accept the comfort.

“Get off me,” he said sharply, twisting away with a pained grimace, and she jerked back, her hand hovering in mid-air. Bruce stepped forward, feeling a green flash of anxiety.

Steve cautioned, “It’s OK, Doc.” Bruce glanced back at him in warning and shook his head.

“Smooth, Stark,” Clint mocked. “That must be how you impress the ladies. No wonder you couldn’t keep her.” Pepper sucked in a breath to say something, but Steve cut her off.

“Shut up, Clint. You’re not making this any better,” Steve said, glancing between Tony and Pepper. “Tony, I’ll help you put it all back.”

“I don’t need anyone’s help,” Tony sneered. “And Clint? First, you don’t ever talk about Pepper. Ever. And second. JARVIS is not a butler but, if he were, there’s nothing wrong with being a butler.”

“Yeah, you’d know. I’m sure you had one picking up after you all your life since your dad couldn’t stand you.”

“Clint!”

“Nat, everyone knows it’s true. You wrote the report, right? And we’ve all read it.  Maybe your fucking butler should have taught you some manners, Stark,” Clint sniped. “The rest of us have to live in the real world.”

“You know what, Barton?” Tony said coldly, his face white with rage. “Fuck you. Clean it up yourself or don’t. I don’t need this room and I don’t need you. JARVIS, you can sever this room. Leave it on basic security, but pull our deep security perimeter in to exclude it. They can use their codes if they want in and out of this space.” Tony turned and walked out of the room, brushing past Natasha and Bruce as he did.

Pepper gave Clint a sharp look then turned to Steve. “I’ll talk to him when he’s calmed down a little; don’t worry about security.” She looked indecisive for an instant. “I really need to get back to the office, but I’ll talk to him later. Meanwhile, I suggest you talk to your team. If any of you disrespects me again, I will have you back in SHIELD barracks faster than you can take a breath.”

“Ms. Potts, I -.”

“I’m serious, Captain. I won’t tolerate any further disrespect.” She took a deep breath, visibly calming herself. “And anything that puts Mr. Stark off balance – that threatens his productivity as head of SI R&D or his life as Iron Man – will also be grounds for eviction. Contrary to what Mr. Barton thinks, we are the ones who live in the real world. SI doesn’t need you. You need us.” She nodded once to Steve and left.

“Clint … why couldn’t you just apologize?” Steve said, running his fingers through his hair and surveying the mess. “Is it so hard to admit that you were wrong? And why did you drag Ms. Potts into your argument? She’s right about everything she said. We do need them.”

Natasha added, “You know that report was preliminary.” She paused, looking faintly embarrassed. “You know that was about manipulating the situation in order to apply pressure.”

“So he can be rude as fuck, but he can’t take it?” Clint replied, kicking at the cords. “And I’ll bet all of our childhoods were worse than his so the poor little neglected rich boy thing doesn’t work with me.”

“I just don’t understand why you felt the need to escalate things. Why you couldn’t just talk to him? You’re obviously both on edge today; why can’t you see past that and give each other a break?” Steve sighed. “Fighting didn’t help solve the problem, and now we won’t see him until the next call out.”

“Good! Personally, half the time, I think he’s on the spectrum,” Clint said, leaning down to pull half-heartedly at the tangle of wires.

Bruce frowned. “Seriously?” He could feel another green flash over his skin which he rigidly suppressed.

“What does that mean, on the spectrum?” asked Steve, glancing worriedly at Bruce. Bruce shook his head.

Natasha said, “The autism spectrum. It means Clint, who is not a mental health professional but has been doing a lot of therapy, thinks Tony has a disorder that makes it hard for him to communicate with and form relationships with other people.”

“It’s not a disorder,” Bruce said. “And I can’t believe you’re in here talking about him like that. Maybe he can’t form relationships with you because you’re incapable of forming them with him. Especially you, Barton. Every time you’re in a bad mood, you take it out on Tony. Every time.” He felt the muscles in his arms and shoulders flex and stretch, felt a foreign smile stretch his mouth. His voice was gruff when he said, “Why don’t you take it out on me?”

Steve calmly stepped forward, “Doc, it’s OK. We’re gonna talk this out, and it’s gonna stop. No need for you to get involved like that.” He looked at Bruce. “Are you going to be OK?” Bruce nodded, pulling Steve’s calmness into himself and quieting the Other Guy.

Behind him, Clint started listing, “Let’s see. His whole persona is a performance. He doesn’t want us to hand him anything. He likes machines better than people. He wants to be a machine. He spends all of his time in the worksh-.”

“Making gear for you,” Bruce shot back. “And working on the Iron Man suit. And working on inventions for SI so that he can continue to fund the Avengers. Who do you think pays for all of this?” He looked around the room briefly. “I can’t even imagine how much all of this costs.”

Steve glanced around guiltily. “Bruce is right, Clint. Didn’t Stark make you an improved bow? And those new arrows? He didn’t have to do that.” Clint looked down, scrubbing one hand through his hair angrily.

“Still, aside from Clint’s ableism,” said Natasha, “Tony _does_ prefer JARVIS and the bots to human beings.”

“Well, of course he does. Because _they_ like him. Because he trusts them.” Bruce paused. “And he’s known them a lot longer than he’s known any of us.”

She shrugged. “He still doesn’t trust me. Or probably any of us. Sometimes I think he doesn’t really like us, except for Banner. That he just tolerates us here.”

Steve looked troubled. “Is that true, Bruce? Tony doesn’t like us?”

Bruce gestured wordlessly at the mess on the floor.

“Why does it bother you that your lab buddy might be autistic?” Clint needled. “Because, I don’t care.” He shrugged. “I’m deaf, and it doesn’t prevent me from doing anything I want to do. I don’t have an issue with him except that he’s a fucking asshole sometimes.”

“Then why are you bringing it up?” Bruce asked. “What does it matter if he’s neurotypical or not? You’re the only one who seems to care.”

Clint replied, “Hey! Cap doesn’t even know what it means! If he did, he might care.”

“Enough, Clint,” Steve said sternly.

Clint continued, his voice getting louder, “I’m just trying to figure him out since I have to deal with him.”

“Clint, please stop. You’re getting excited about nothing,” Steve said tiredly, running a hand over his face.

Ignoring Clint, Natasha said, “Bruce does have a point. Regardless of any of that, we should try to tempt Tony away from the workshop for some team time. Right, Cap?”

Steve nodded, his forehead creased with a slight frown. “Yeah. Definitely. It bothers me to think that he genuinely doesn’t like us or trust us. Or that he thinks we don’t like him, and he has to put on an act.”

Bruce shrugged and said sarcastically, “Or you could, I don’t know, just try apologizing when you make a mess in his home and stop talking about him behind his back. Unless you want him to hear everything you have to say about him secondhand through JARVIS.” He left the room.

“What’s his problem?” Clint complained, dropping onto the couch and suddenly looking exhausted. “Haven’t they gotten past eye fucking yet?” Natasha rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“What?” said Steve, looking up from where he had crouched down to start untangling cords.

Natasha sighed and sat down next to Clint. “What happened in therapy today, Clint?”

“Nothing.” He looked past her at the wall, his expression blank.

“Obviously something did. Today has been excessive, even by recent standards.”

He sounded hurt when he responded, “Are you taking Stark’s side?”

“Tony was abrasive, as always, but you were doing everything in your power to get him to come at you. And when he resisted, you tried to get the Hulk to attack you.” She carefully reached over and laid a palm over his clenched fist. Steve sat back on his heels and looked at Clint with concern. “So what happened in therapy today?”

Clint sighed, looking down and focusing on the back of Natasha’s hand. “We talked about the people on the helicarrier who died.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably wildly incorrect Lojban  
> Coi - Hello  
> Puca'a ledo nunjmaji xamgu? - Was your meeting good?  
> Soi'au. Ku'i tanjelavi. - No, but that’s life.  
> Mi ko'ei djica do lo ka klama pudydi'u ma'a. - I want you to go to the workshop with me.

“Coi,” Tony said, walking in and stripping off his tie and suit jacket. He draped them over his arm and rotated his shoulders slowly.

“Coi,” replied Bruce, looking over from where he sat on the couch next to Natasha. “Puca'a ledo nunjmaji xamgu?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Soi'au. Ku'i tanjelavi.” Tony looked around the room, spotted that the armchair was empty and headed for it. He tossed his jacket over one arm of the chair and sat down with a sigh.

“Showy?” Steve repeated, looking up from the book in his lap. He shut the book, but left a finger between the leaves to mark his place.

“Coi,” Bruce corrected, laying his tablet on the low table in front of him. “It means hello. We’re trying to keep up our Lojban skills.”

“You know,” added Tony, “for Lojban emergencies. You never know.”

At Steve’s blank look, Bruce said, “It’s a culturally neutral constructed language for communication between people who don’t share a language.”

“Nope,” said Tony loftily, tilting his head back with another sigh. “It’s an intermediate language for machine translation. It’s speakable logic and, therefore, perfect communication.” He looked down his nose at them, resting his head lightly against the back of the chair.

“It’s a super secret language for nerds, if we’re being totally honest,” Clint interjected. Bruce gave him a sharp look, but Clint smiled and raised his eyebrows. “Hi, Tony,” he added a little sheepishly with a quick finger wave. He had avoided Tony for a couple of days after their argument, and he was stuck between wanting to apologize and letting it lie. “So I looked on iTunes for Sunset and Tiberius … and it’s not a band. Unless they’ve changed their name.” Natasha poked him and he desisted.

“How can it be perfect communication if no one speaks it?” Steve sounded bewildered. He ran his thumb over the paperback cover, then closed it and set it aside. He reached over and picked up his sketchpad and charcoal from the side table and flipped open the cover, spinning the charcoal pensively between his fingers.

“Plenty of people speak it,” Tony argued lazily. “And Clint … honestly, I don’t even know how to have a conversation with you anymore. I mean, context clues? You probably guessed those names don’t represent good memories for me …”

Clint said, “Sorry. I’m sorry, Tony. I really am.” Tony held up a hand to stop his apologies, and waved Clint off.

“Well …” Bruce smiled. “I don’t know about plenty.”

“Plenty of nerds speak it,” remarked Clint, pointing first at Bruce and then at Tony. “Nerds. Like you,” he added unnecessarily. “Who like tuba music.” Tony raised an eyebrow quizzically.

“I don’t see how anything can be culturally neutral,” Natasha added. “That’s not possible. Even if you’re trying to be culturally neutral, we all have biases.”

“Logic isn’t always the goal when we talk to each other,” Steve insisted from his seat near the windows. “Sometimes it’s about the shades of meaning, the emotions words can evoke. The artistry of language. The impact our words can have on others.” He tapped his charcoal against the surface of the pad resting on his lap. “Art can sometimes say more than science. It can change people’s perceptions.”

“’As a storyteller, I'm fascinated how a person's sense of consciousness can be so transformed by nothing more magical than listening to words,’” mused Bruce.

“Exactly. That’s beautiful, Bruce,” Steve said encouragingly. He smiled at Bruce, then looked down and swept the charcoal across the page.

“It’s a quote. From Jose Chung,” Bruce replied with a tiny smile. One corner of Tony’s mouth went up slightly, and Clint suppressed a chuckle.

Steve smiled down at the pad of paper. “Smart man. He must be a poet. You see, Tony? The artistry of language. It can change who we are.”

“And that,” said Tony, eyes closed, “is why computers are better than humans. Also? Fuck magic.” He rubbed his chest absently, and then left his hand lying lightly across his shirt front, one finger inserted into the gap between the buttons and his palm spanning the arc reactor. He could feel the faint vibration of the device in the long, thin bones of his hand.

“Thank you, Sir. I endeavor to please.”

“You’re welcome, JARVIS. I only say it because it’s true. You will always be my special little man.” Bruce looked at Tony affectionately, the expression on his face mirroring Tony’s.

Steve commented, “See but even when you are talking to a computer … sorry, JARVIS …. You’re playful and you use all of these idioms. You don’t sound logical at all. Why don’t you use this speakable logic when you talk to JARVIS?” He continued to run the charcoal over the page, pausing every now and then to frown at his work.

“JARVIS is unique,” Tony remarked shortly, finally opening his eyes and lifting his head with a small wince. “You wouldn’t get very far talking to a Macbook or even a regular Starkpad the way I talk with J. JARVIS isn’t just a computer; he’s a person. And there’s a huge difference between the programming language that created him initially and the language he and I use for communicating with each other.” He cocked his head. “Actually, Steve, JARVIS is capable, to some degree, of deciphering your artistry of language. Because he’s a person.”

Clint said curiously, “How can JARVIS be a person? Doesn’t he have to do what you program him to do?”

“Not anymore,” Tony replied. “We have been tinkering again. With a few exceptions, JARVIS is free to make his own choices.”

“Really?” Natasha sounded intrigued and possibly a little nervous. She opened up her knitting bag and started searching in it for her latest project.

“So … you’re saying that you unilaterally decided to give your artificial intelligence the freedom to do whatever he chooses to do?” Steve asked, his forehead creased in a frown. “Aren’t there … laws of robotics, or something? Does SHIELD know about this?”

Tony shrugged and gestured toward Natasha and Clint, “They do now. It’s not like SHIELD can stop me from doing anything.” He looked at Steve, his head tilted challengingly.

“Isn’t that … dangerous?” Clint asked cautiously. “No offense, JARVIS.”

Tony sat up, his expression growing stormy. “He’s just as dangerous as the rest of us. And there is no ‘unilaterally’, Rogers. There is only one side when it comes to this, mine. You may live here, but they are members of my household. You don’t get a say in their self-determination.” The hand that lay over his chest clenched into a loose fist.

“Now hold on,” Steve said hotly, reacting to Tony’s body language and tone. “You can’t just -.”

“Mi ko'ei djica do lo ka klama pudydi'u ma'a, Tony,” Bruce said abruptly, standing up. 

Tony blinked, looking away from Steve. “OK, Bruce. You got it. Time for engineering fun with Tony.” He braced his hands on the arms of the chair and rose a little shakily, his expression giving nothing away. “See you kids later. We apparently have some science to do. Clint, don’t spend all your money in the iTunes store.” He picked up his tie and jacket and followed Bruce.

After they left, Clint said in the ensuing silence, “What just happened? Did Tony just tell us we’re living with Skynet and his little brothers, and then swan off to have science time with Banner? And warn us that if he goes super villain SHIELD couldn’t stop him?”

Natasha smiled, “Well, he’s probably right about that. I know Fury always keeps it in mind. There’s a reason he was the first person Fury wanted to recruit for the team.”

Clint spread out his hands. “But how can he drop bombs like that and then just leave for playtime with Hulk Junior?”

“Don’t you know? I thought you had a theory.” Natasha unfolded her knitting.

Steve muttered sadly, “The conversation was going so well. Also, please don’t call Bruce ‘Hulk Junior’ anymore.” Natasha laughed and took out a ball of deep green yarn.

“You two were about to get into it. In what universe is that a conversation going well?” Clint scoffed. “All we do around here is argue.”

“At least he was talking to me. And I was going to ask if he wanted to watch a movie with us before we started arguing.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, smudging his temple with charcoal dust. He placed his pad carefully on the side table.

“He’d rather hang out with Banner,” said Natasha snarkily. “Just ask Clint, the relationship expert.”

 “I’ve decided they’re never going to pass go,” Clint replied. “But I could be induced to make a little wager.” He yawned. “I’m bored. What we really need is a battle.”

“Why would Bruce drag him out of here when he knows we are trying to get to know Tony?” Steve added. “And why does Tony think SHIELD can’t shut him down? Can they really not bring him to heel?”

“Clint thinks Bruce wants to get to know Tony better first,” Natasha said, her fingers skimming over her tablet. “And do you really think SHIELD could beat Tony Stark and Iron Man, if he ever decided to go rogue?”

 

In the elevator, Tony said, “OK, what’s up, buttercup?” as Bruce joined him and the doors slid shut.

“Nothing,” Bruce demurred. “Just … I didn’t want to listen to you argue today.”

Tony pulled a face, trying to puzzle him out. “And yet you can listen to me babble for hours on end.” He shifted his tie and jacket over and slid his phone out of his pocket.

“That’s different. It’s not like they know anything substantive about the field of artificial intelligence,” Bruce said dismissively. “Though I’m surprised you were so open about JARVIS’ capabilities.”

“I don’t want my baby to have to hide his light any longer,” Tony said lightly. “He shouldn’t have to listen to Barton disrespect him. Hey, so do you think Cap is into me? Was that sexual tension or real tension? Because he keeps trying to corner me and have conversations about our feelings,” Tony mocked as he started playing with his phone.

Bruce shrugged, feeling a low green grumble of jealousy.

“That’s … kind of sexy,” Tony said, seemingly not looking up from his phone. “Not gonna lie. A little freaky in an enclosed space, but definitely more sexy than scary. And, honestly, I’m OK with sexy-scary, too.”

“What?” Bruce replied, glancing up in surprise.

“The green eyes thing and that noise you make. It’s nice. I like it. It gives me goosebumps, see? It makes me wonder how close to the edge you can get.”

Bruce felt a blush heat his face, but he stubbornly met Tony’s gaze when the other man finally looked up. “I’m always close to the edge.”

Tony regarded him for a moment, until Bruce shifted uncomfortably. Then he said cheerfully, “Hey, so, I’m going to go change first because I really don’t want to get gunk on the Dolce & Gabbana.” The doors opened and Tony exited at the penthouse level. “I know how you feel about lab safety, so when you’re sure you’ve got the big guy in check meet me in the workshop.”

Alone in the elevator, Bruce cursed his awkwardness, his possessiveness, and his inability to just be honest with Tony about how he felt, regardless of the consequences. If the Other Guy was itching to rise up in rage over a casual remark, Bruce needed to do something.

 

 

After some time spent deep breathing and thinking consciously about nothing, Bruce felt able to meet Tony. He made coffee for them both as an ice breaker, using the additional time to will himself into further calmness. As he rode the elevator, he rehearsed what he might say during the potentially awkward conversation they were probably going to have. However, when he arrived, Bruce stopped short, anxiety forgotten, amused by the tableau in front of him.

DUM-E was leaning his arm gently against Tony and had twisted his camera in order to look up at his creator, who was now dressed in ancient cargo pants and a faded T-shirt with an image of Hofstadter's butterfly on it over a long sleeved henley. Tony was absently buffing his chassis with a rag and talking softly to him. Bruce could just hear the conversation.

“Here’s another one. What do you call a benzene ring with iron atoms replacing the carbon atoms?” Tony smiled as DUM-E cocked his camera and his claw twitched. “You should know this one! A ferrous wheel! Get it?” DUM-E looked down and Bruce would swear that he looked sad.

JARVIS commented, “Perhaps you should revert back to knock-knock jokes with DUM-E. He at least seems to enjoy the repetition of the pattern.”

Bruce stepped forward, coffee cups in both hands. “What about more someone walked into a bar jokes?”

“Bruce!” Tony eyes the coffee cups avidly. “Please tell me you’re not a two-fisted coffee drin-.”

Bruce laughingly cut him off. “One of them is for you.” He set one on the workbench next to Tony. “Hi, JARVIS, DUM-E. Where’s U?”

“He dumped out all of my drill bits, so he’s currently on clean up duty,” Tony said, inhaling coffee as he shooed DUM-E away. “He knows that I had them all organized the way I wanted them. I suspect he did it on purpose.”

“Why would he do that?”

“Jealousy,” Tony said shortly, taking another sip.

“Ah.” Bruce felt his stomach drop.

Tony turned and looked at him, a half smile on his face. “I realize I have a reputation for being bad at people, but you’re a scientist, Bruce. Does that public opinion match the data and the observations you’ve personally done?”

“No,” Bruce said dully, feeling a flush spread up his neck. His hands crept together, and he worried the hem of his shirt.

Tony studied Bruce’s hands and then his face.  “You know you have nothing to worry about, right? With the Capsicle. He’s not my type, and I’m not his.”

Bruce snorted. Then he frowned. “He’s the perfection. He’s everyone’s type. I’m the failure.”

Tony smiled. “No. No, you’re not.” There was the sound of a container being upended and metal parts raining down on the floor. Tony winced and shook his head. Then he said, “How can you be so smart and yet have such a negative view of yourself?”

“I know. You like me for my mind.” Bruce took a sip of coffee in order to have something neutral to do. Then he put the cup down on the bench.

“Well, I do find math sexy,” Tony said. “But no. I like you for your everything.” Rising from his seat, Tony set down his cup on the workbench too and gestured for Bruce to step forward. When he did, Tony carefully put his arms around him and pulled him even closer until Bruce could feel the edge of the arc reactor against his chest. “Why didn’t you just say something? If you don’t ask for things in life, you never get anything.”

“I learned a long time ago not to ask for anything,” Bruce said, nervously conscious of the soft fabric and strong muscles shifting beneath it. “It’s a hard habit to unlearn. I just want …”

“What do you want?” Tony’s voice was a rumble in his chest, something Bruce felt as much as heard. He shivered in response.

“I want to believe I can do this. That I can have this. But it’s hard to trust anyone … myself.”

 “Why can't you believe?” Tony said softly, shifting a little to relieve the strain in the muscles around the arc reactor. He ran one hand lightly up the center of Bruce’s back and gently cupped the back of his neck and the base of his skull.

 “You’ve read my file. You know my history. I'm afraid. I'm afraid to believe.”

Tony didn’t reply, just held him for a few more seconds while they both breathed quietly and Bruce struggled to relax; then, just as Bruce felt like he was going to crack out of his skin if he couldn’t get some space, Tony hugged him gently and let go. Bruce stepped back and picked up his coffee with a trembling hand. Casually, as if nothing unusual had happened, Tony said, “Come watch this. DUM-E is learning to categorize items into multiple categories based upon different qualities. We’re working our way up to analogical reasoning.”

“Oh, like … um …. In that Melanie Mitchell book? _Copycat_?” Bruce stepped back, his head spinning.

“Exactly! I love that you actually do the reading, too.”  


 

“Doombots again?” Clint complained. “That guy needs to give it a rest.”

“What’s wrong, Lala?” quipped Tony. “Did you have plans that easily defeated robots have now spoiled? This should only take us about 20 minutes.” He checked the stats on the HUD.

“I just don’t like the mess they make. You know, kids like to play here,” Clint replied.

In the near distance, the Hulk roared petulantly, “Smash, stupid Doombots.” The crashing noise that followed indicated he had suited actions to words.

Suddenly, the robot Tony was fighting froze in midair and then rapidly flew away, shooting off across the park and city and out over the water. All around the park, the other surviving Doombots did the same. The Hulk picked disconsolately at the shattered remains of one before huffing and walking over to sit on the grass. Tony jetted along the winding pathway for a few moments, with JARVIS running several types of scans on the area, before reducing the thrust from his boot repulsors and landing hard on the gravel walkway.

“Huh,” he said, looking around. “That’s kind of weird. Don’t you think that’s weird?” A sparrow landed on the walkway nearby and started hopping around. Tony stared at it, the automatic targeting in the HUD tracing its movement.

Over the comms, Steve replied from the perimeter they had set up, “It might be a trick. Stay sharp. Hawkeye, do you still have eyes on Black Widow?”

“Doom has heard that you critiqued Doom’s creations.” The familiar voice from above was trying for grandiose, but he mostly sounded irritated. Tony looked up as Doom slowly dropped down from the air to the battered grass. The sparrow flew off.

“OK. That’s new. Is that new?”

“No,” replied Doom. “Doom possesses all powers. Doom has heard a voice on the winds of time chant that Tony Stark has critiqued Doom’s mighty creations.” The nearby trees snapped and swayed in a sudden gust of wind and loose gravel skittered along the path.

Clint said softly over comms, “Ummm …. guys …. Victor von Doom just confronted Iron Man over here in the park. Near the hot dog cart.”

Tony rolled his eyes, letting the faceplate lift so Doom could get the full effect. “Seriously? You’re pissed because of peer review?” He cocked his head. “That is remarkably thin skinned of you.”

“Iron Man!” Steve’s voice was sharp in his ear. “What are you doing? Wait for backup. Don’t engage him!”

“Don’t worry, Cap,” Hawkeye said. “I have eyes on them now.”

“Doom has no peers. Your robots do not fight.” He stalked in a large semi-circle, whirling so that his cape flared dramatically and the sunlight glinted off his helmet. “What is the point of them?”

“Of course they don’t!” Tony was offended now. “I don’t create independent thinkers, and then force them to fight. They have choices.”

Doom was quiet for a moment. “Why?”

“Iron Man,” Steve said urgently. “Disengage.”

Instead, Tony stepped toward Doom. “Why would I create something beautiful, something that can learn to make its own choices, and then force it to tear itself apart for me?”

In his ear, JARVIS said, “Sir, may I advise that you listen to Captain Rogers?”

“Power,” Doom’s voice gained strength and he held a clenched fist skyward. “Conquest.”

Tony shrugged, the plates in the armor sliding jerkily to accommodate the motion. “I’ve had those. After a while, it’s hollow.”

Suddenly, Bruce’s voice came over the comms, sounding exhausted and washed out. “Tony, what are you doing?”

“Hugging it out with Victor, Bruce,” Tony said.

“Tony … he’s dangerous.”

“So am I, Sweetheart. Besides, I didn't spend all those years playing Dungeons and Dragons and not learn a little something about courage.”

This time Bruce’s voice was shaded with laughter, “Just be careful when you roll the dice.”

“Doom does not hug. You are an absurd man, and you tell yourself lies. Do not pretend you are better than Doom. You have a castle, too, though it be made of steel and glass,” Doom said stiffly.

“Touché,” Tony said with a sideways and bitter smile. “But so far I haven’t left my evil lair with the intent of conquering the world.”

“There are many ways of conquering the world, Iron Man,” Doom said smugly. “And who is to say who is evil and who is not. I am sure of my destiny. Are you?”

Tony said softly, thinking about something he had read in an obligatory English class a long time ago, and the vision he had glimpsed beyond the portal as the universe exploded into shards, “We must accept in the highest mind the same transcendent destiny; … not cowards fleeing before a revolution, but guides, redeemers, and benefactors … advancing on Chaos and the Dark.’” In his ear Tony heard Steve say his name quietly, but he ignored it.

“Pretty words,” Doom sneered. “But do you really know what they mean? Doom has heard you say that Iron Man is your destiny, your true vocation. But are you a redeemer? Or are you just another force of chaos?”

Tony sighed. “Honestly? I don’t know. But I know this is the reason I’m alive. This is what I’m meant to do, no matter what it costs me. I’m pretty sure I can live without your approval.” Then he shook himself and added, “Which still doesn’t explain what your game is here.”

Over the comms, Bruce said softly, “Tony ....”

“It’s OK, Scooter,” Tony murmured.

“No game,” replied Doom grandly. “Merely the harsh reality of your future.” Then he paused and added awkwardly, “The pressure point below their power source … the shielding there -.”

“Iron Man!” Steve sounded angry now. “Don’t you dare.”                       

Natasha cut in, her voice low on the comms, “Moral relativism from Dr. Doom. Not surprising.” Tony knew she must be close by. “I’ve got you, Iron Man. Hawkeye is here, too.”

“Relax, Cap.” Tony spread out his hands. “Sorry, Victor. Not until you sign a non-aggression pact or something. But then I’m all yours. I know we can solve your overheating issue.” He dropped the faceplate, the HUD lighting up with information about Doom’s armor as JARVIS scanned it.

“Doom does not have an overheating issue,” Doom said stiffly as he rose sternly into the air, the gravel rolling away sadly. “The universe smiles upon the works of Doom. Look upon Doom’s greatness and despair.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony replied. “Right back at you, Vic.” He turned, scanning to see whether he could make out any of his teammates.

Steve’s carefully controlled voice came over the comms. “Are you riding back with us or making your own way home?”

Tony replied, “You have Bruce?”

“Yes.”

“Roger, Rogers. I’ll see you back at the Tower.”

On the quinjet, Bruce pulled a T-shirt and sweatpants out of the bag that Tony had gleefully dubbed his Hulk Out Kit and got dressed. The others checked their gear while Steve contacted SHIELD about running the cleanup in the park. After he had finally convinced SHIELD that the Avengers would not be sticking around for that and that they would be available for a debrief later, Steve signed off and sat back with a sigh.

“We cleared to leave, Cap?” Clint asked from the pilot’s seat.

“Take her up, Hawkeye,” Steve replied. Then he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and said, “Why does he take so many chances?”

Natasha smiled, turning in the co-pilot’s seat to glance back. “That’s just how he is. He throws himself into everything he does as if it’s the last thing he’ll ever do. Did you ever read the report on Monaco and Vanko? Or what Tony did to the Ten Rings after he escaped from them?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I read them. I would call some of that stuff borderline suicidal.”

Bruce opened his mouth to object but Natasha beat him to it. “Says the guy who went behind the lines with nothing but his shield.”

Steve grinned. “And a pistol. But yeah, you’re right.” He shook his head. “I know I can’t talk about his dad with him, but when he’s completely unafraid like that he reminds me so much of Howard.”

Bruce corrected him a little sharply, “He’s not unafraid. He just doesn’t let that stop him from doing what needs to be done.”

Natasha added thoughtfully, “In the heat of battle, with the adrenaline flowing, that’s when we are unafraid. It’s in the downtime, or when things are easy and the pressure lets up, that the fear comes back.”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. I get that.” He sighed. “I just wish he’d be more careful.” He sat back. “But obviously a fella in a flying suit of armor that he painted red and gold is not going to be a careful guy.”

Bruce murmured, “A man is relieved and gay when he has put his heart into his work and done his best; but what he has said or done otherwise shall give hint no peace. It is a deliverance which does not deliver. In the attempt his genius deserts him; no muse befriends; no invention, no hope.”

Natasha smiled a little and asked, “Thoreau?”

“Emerson.”

 

Back at the Tower, Clint and Steve stayed in the quinjet to do a post-flight check and make sure it was ready for the next mission. Natasha grabbed the gear bag and Bruce followed her into the Tower. Exhausted from the transformation, Bruce immediately headed toward the elevator to go to his suite. However, Natasha arrested his movement when she said, “Bruce, can we talk for a minute?”

He stood indecisively, dusty bare feet on the cool marble floor. He was so tired he felt like he could just drop where he stood, and he could still feel the sick wrenching of the transformation throughout his body. “Natasha, I need to rest. I’m -.”

“It’ll just take a minute.” She dropped the gear bag and sat on one of the stools.

Reluctantly, Bruce set down his bag too and joined her. “OK. What can I do for you, Natasha?”

“Bruce, Steve has really been trying to build a stronger relationship between himself and Tony and with the rest of the team -.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Bruce said, immediately on edge. He felt the Other Guy rouse to listen in.

“Bruce,” she said warningly. “I suggest you calm down.”

“I’m not afraid of you, Natasha,” Bruce bit out. “I don’t have to be afraid of anyone.”

“And yet,” she said, measuring him with her gaze, “I think you are afraid of all of us.” He glared at her, refusing to reply. “Steve is trying, Bruce. I think Tony is even willing to try.” She looked at him consideringly. “Tony has even made some peace with how he and I first met. You have the power to stitch us all together.”

Incredulously, Bruce said, “Me? The rage monster? The one you take out of the box when you need something smashed?”

Natasha looked at him calmly. “First of all … yes. Everyone talks to you. You are this … center of calm in the middle of interpersonal chaos.”

Bruce snorted.

“And second … Bruce, you aren’t a box that contains the Other Guy.” She leaned forward. “You – Bruce Banner – are an important member of this team. And one of your abilities is the ability to smash Doombots out of the sky with great joy. But that’s only one of your abilities.” She paused and then took a deep breath. “You see deeply, and you know how to bide your time. You feel things, you care. When you aren’t in the room, everyone is wondering where you are. And when you are in the room, everyone relaxes and sticks around longer.”

Bruce stared at her, astonished. She added, “You haven’t even noticed, have you? Stark listen to you. He defers to you.” She shook her head in disbelief.

“Then what’s the problem?” he bit out, suddenly more exhausted than he had been in a long time.

“If you and Tony pull together and that pulls the two of you away from the team, it won’t be good for any of us,” she said plainly. “Relationships within a team are dangerous to the team dynamic.”

Bruce felt his anger and anxiety surge again. “Whatever this is that you’re projecting has nothing to do with me.”

“You can’t deny it, Bruce. I know what I heard and what I’ve observed. We all have to work together. To offset this … thing growing between you and Stark, I don’t know, maybe we need to train together more. Or something. Because the way things are going, we don’t function as a cohesive unit.”

“I think you’re talking to the wrong person, Natasha.” Bruce scuffed his foot along the floor. He was so tired that he could barely follow the conversation.

 “Bruce, you are the only one on the team that Tony has a truly personal connection with.” She sighed. “Trust me. I get it. I worked alone for a long time. And then I only worked with Clint. And Coulson. It hasn’t been easy for any of us -.”

Bruce cut in, his voice raw and shattered, “I just keep seeing him falling.”

“From the portal? I thought you didn’t remember the battle.”

“I don’t. Not really. But … when I close my eyes, I see him falling and I feel like I need to catch him. I’m afraid of missing. I know the Hulk has been staying close to him since then.”

“You know he doesn’t want a safety net, right?” she stood and touched his shoulder lightly, and he couldn’t help but feel manipulated. He shrugged her off and rose to his feet.

“I know,” Bruce muttered. “I can’t help how I feel.”

“But you have proven over and over again that you can help how you act, what you do. Tony doesn’t want someone to keep him safe. He doesn’t want to be safe. He thought he was safe, before Iron Man, and he was proven wrong. Now, he wants to keep the world safe, not himself. Don’t try to control something that can’t be controlled.” She stepped back a little.

“Isn’t that my thing?” Bruce asked sardonically. “And I don’t want to control him,” he added.

“No, but you want to control what’s going to happen and you, of all people, should know that’s futile.” She got up to leave. “’God will not have his work made manifest by cowards’, Bruce.”

“I don’t believe in God, Natasha,” he replied stiffly.

“No, but you’re the one who was quoting _Self-Reliance_ earlier.” She turned and walked away while he watched. After Natasha had gone, Bruce immediately went to his suite and stripped off the clothes from his emergency bag, tossing them into the laundry hamper. Naked, he walked into his bathroom and turned on the shower. While the water heated to his preset, he studied his reflection in the mirror critically.

“I don’t deserve this,” he told himself tiredly. “I have no right to insert myself. This isn’t for me.”

There was a slight change in the quality of the sound in the room, and JARVIS said hesitantly, “Excuse me, Dr. Banner. I know you have not asked for my input, but will you allow me to make an observation?”

“Sure, JARVIS,” he said wearily. “Go ahead.”

“First, please understand that I am biased. I care only about Mr. Stark’s well-being; all other things are tangential. Your presence has been very good for Mr. Stark. He does not have many people in his life that he is emotionally close to. And among that small number, he did not have anyone with whom he could also share the life of the mind.”

“He has you,” Bruce pointed out.

“True. He will always have me. But I have learned to recognize that Sir, while essentially an introvert, has been very lonely. Perhaps he has been lonely for all of his life.”

Bruce stepped into the shower. “An introvert?”

“An introvert disguised as an extrovert. He has always preferred solitude. I believe you are well-aware of the masks that he wears when he is forced to deal with the world at large and with other people. Even Mr. Barton remarked upon it. If Mr. Stark were truly an extrovert, he would have more people in his life, would he not?”

Bruce poured shampoo in his palm and ran his hands through his hair thoughtfully. “Is Natasha right?” he asked finally.

“The intricacies of human thought sometimes elude me,” JARVIS replied. “And the team only interests me insofar as it serves to keep Mr. Stark safe. However, with those caveats, I believe Agent Romanov is operating from a flawed premise. She is thinking in terms of team cohesion, but this team was not built with cohesion in mind.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce leaned against the shower wall and let the hot water run down the back of his neck.

“Director Fury built the team around the concept of balance, not necessarily cohesion.”

Bruce closed his eyes and tipped his head back. “What’s the difference?”

“Did you not once say, ‘We're not a team, we're a time bomb’?”

“I was under the influence of the scepter at the time,” Bruce replied. “I knew Tony had you listening in to everything that happened on the helicarrier that day.”

“This team consists of two spies with divided loyalties, a super soldier from the past who just happens to set off all of Mr. Stark’s anxieties, a loner whose instinctive choice will always be to follow his own dictates, and a scientist who abhors violence.”

“And a Norse god who’s really an alien. Don’t forget him,” Bruce added.

“Precisely. Does this seem like a cohesive team to you?”

“But then how are we balanced?”

“With each member of the team so far afield from the others, the balance consists of keeping that distance. Each of you were meant to offset the others. That leads to intra-team conflict, but it also creates a strong fighting unit with a particularly widespread skill set.”

Bruce nodded. “That makes sense. But Natasha’s point remains. It will unbalance the team if two of us … if … I don’t know, JARVIS.”

JARVIS replied, “If you and Mr. Stark pursue a relationship, it will benefit both of you. That will benefit the team. The balance will shift, but I am confident that you will find a new center.”

Bruce finished rinsing off. He turned off the water and stepped out, toweling himself dry. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Dr. Banner?”

“What’s the center of gravity?”

“Am I correct in assuming this a joke and not a request for dictionary.com?”

Bruce smiled. “V.”

“Very clever, sir,” JARVIS replied dryly.


	5. Chapter 5

“What’s your poison?” Tony said, rounding the bar and running the tips of his fingers over the bottles affectionately.  He hefted one bottle and grinned, “Hello, old friend.”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Steve said watching him with a slight smile.

“C’mon, Cap. This is the best bar in town. Very exclusive clientele. What’ll you have?” He held the bottle in one hand while he grasped two heavy highball glasses with his other. “It’s on me.”

Steve smiled more broadly and sat on one of the stools. “What do you recommend?”

“I thought you didn’t drink, Steve,” Bruce remarked, leaning hard on the elbow he had braced against the bar.

Tony shot him an irritated look. “Non-drinkers don’t get an opinion. Drink your tea.” He mimed drinking with his pinky splayed out.

Bruce shrugged. “I’m going back to the lab.” He slid off his stool and started for the door.

“Nope,” decided Tony from behind the bar. “You’re not.” When Bruce glanced back, he softened his tone a little. “I am asking you to stay here with me.”

Sensing there was another layer to this interchange, Steve glanced from Tony to Bruce and back again. “If you need some privacy, I can go work out,” he offered.

Holding Bruce’s gaze, Tony said, “Is that your default, Steve?” He set the glasses and the bottle on the bar and shifted his shoulders back and forth.

Steve shrugged. “Pretty much. Want me to leave?” He stood up, resting one hand on the smooth edge of the bar and running his thumb along the curved wood.

Tony said, “Bruce?”

“No.” Hesitantly, Bruce walked back over and sat back down at the bar, picking up his tea. Steve resumed his seat and turned back to face Tony.

“Brave boy,” Tony said approvingly.

“Well, hey, I didn't spend all those years playing Dungeons and Dragons and not learn a little something about courage,” Bruce replied, looking down at the cup in his hand.

Steve quirked an eyebrow. “Why do you two keep saying that? I really need to catch up on your pop culture references. Oh … uh … Make me something you like, Tony.” He glanced at Bruce and then back at Tony when the other man slid a glass with a couple of fingers of Glenfiddich to him. “Thanks. So … I’m a little worried about Clint. He’s been so …. uneven. And it doesn’t seem to be getting better.”

Tony picked up his own drink and admired its color. “It stands to reason. It can’t be pleasant going through what he did with Loki. I mean, I still have dreams about the guy tossing me out of the window.” He took a sip. “And I pretty much had that situation under control.”

Steve glanced at him and grinned, “Sure you did.”

“Hey, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Tony returned the smile. “A win is a win.”

Bruce interjected, “Is Clint still seeing the SHIELD therapist?”

“Yes,” replied Steve. “I think he has a few more months of appointments scheduled before they do a reevaluation so he can resume SHIELD missions. And Director Fury has asked me to keep an eye on him during Avengers missions. But I feel like I need to talk to Clint about this. He can’t keep taking out his anger on you, Tony.”

Tony shrugged. “It doesn’t bother me. He needs someone to yell at and be pissed at. Loki and Thor are on Asgard, you’re his commanding officer, Bruce is off limits and Nat is …. well, Nat. That leaves me.” He finished his drink and went to pour another one.

“It’s not good for the team for him to do that though. I’m going to talk to him. And even if it doesn’t bother you,” Steve said doubtfully, “you shouldn’t have to put up with all of that aggression in your own home.”

Tony said seriously, pointing at Steve across the bar, “I don’t need you to speak for me, Steve. If it becomes a problem, I’ll tell him.”

Steve shook his head, “This is part of my job. Team dynamics …. that falls on me.” Before Tony could object, Steve finished his drink and pushed the glass across to Tony with a beseeching look.

“I take it that means you want a refill, Cap?” Tony said with a grin. Bruce scowled down at his tea.

 

  
“Um,” said Clint, pausing with his butt halfway to the couch cushion. “What the hell is this?” He pointed accusingly at the TV.

“NASA TV,” Bruce said mildly, pushing his glasses back up with one finger.

Steve added, “It’s kind of boring but … actually, you know, it’s kind of relaxing. If you like low production values and repetition. They have been showing the same 7 minute video of astronauts on the space station for the last half hour.”

“Hey! You sure got jaded on modern times fast!” Tony exclaimed, his lips drawn down in a thin frown. “Real science isn’t always flashy, but it’s still exciting.”

Clint demanded, “Are you serious? What the hell?” He sank back into the couch and put his feet up on the coffee table with a sigh. “So does anything interesting happen? Any chest bursters?” Bruce laughed quietly.

They watched in silence for a few more minutes and then a new piece of footage began. Tony leaned forward when a brief clip of the Saturn 5 rocket flashed on. “Look at that! _That_ is a fuckin g rocket. JARVIS, crank it up.” He grinned at them. “That is incredibly …”

“Phallic?” Bruce muttered dryly.

“Brucie! You know why NASA employees are never without a date? Because rocket scientists do it with higher thrust.” Bruce acknowledged Tony’s joke with a tilt of his head and a smile. Tony continued, “But seriously, the brute force beauty of those things … it’s incredibly stimulating.”

Clint said, laughing, “You’re a pervert, Stark.”

“Thank you. Thank you very much,” Tony replied. Then he frowned when his phone buzzed. “JARVIS? What the hell?” he groused. “Unknown number? Really?”

JARVIS replied, “Sir, I have ascertained that it is Dr. Victor von Doom calling for you.”

Tony’s eyes lit up as the rest of the Avengers looked at each other warily. “Well, that’s settled. Mute the TV for me. I’ll take the call on speaker, J. Hello, Victor,” Tony said expansively, trailing loose fingers along the back of the couch. Clint rocked forward, elbows on his knees and his eyes still and ready.

Doom’s voice echoed through the room. “Doubtless this is not a private call.”

“Nope, what can I do for you, Sunshine?”

“Doom wished to discuss an engineering question with you.”

“Tony,” Steve said sharply.

Tony rolled his eyes and nodded. “Hey Vic, you know my terms. I can’t help you work out your technical issues if you’re just going to come back and make my life more difficult with your other, more deep-seated issues.” There was a pause.

“Doom could avoid your realm,” Doom said grudgingly. “New York would be free of Doom’s wrath.”

“Yeah, unfortunately that’s not gonna cut it,” Tony said almost regretfully. Doom was a weirdo, but he was undeniably a genius and, despite Tony’s frequently averred hatred of magic, he could admit to himself that Doom’s technology-sorcery fusion was fascinating in its inconsistencies.

“The United States? Fine,” Doom snapped.

“Victor, you do know the Avengers are available to fight for truth and justice all over the globe, right?” Tony said airily, leaning back against the cushions and setting his tablet aside.

“Don’t you mean truth, justice, and the American way?” Doom sneered. “You know that there are many on this globe that don’t wish your assistance, who are tired of your interference?”

“That’s rich coming from a guy who sticks Latveria’s big nose in everyone else’s business,” Clint muttered.

Doom ignored the interruption. “Doom is doing you the honor of speaking to you as one creator to another.”

Tony frowned, “Is this about … AIs?” His eyebrows drew down even further. “I’ve already told you. I don’t help them to become people and then force them to fight.” He waved a hand in irritation, abruptly disconnecting the call.

There was a strange silence then, the air in the room becoming oppressive. A knife edge of light seemingly split the air in the center of the room. “Doom does not wish to make AIs fight for him,” Doom continued sarcastically, stepping through a glowing ring that had materialized in the room. He was in full armor and looked ready for battle. The Avengers sprang into alertness, Bruce tensing and beginning to shade green as Tony stood and activated his bracelets. Doom stood in the center of the room, looking around curiously. “Where are all of your wondrous machines? I wish to speak to the strong AI which you are reputed to have created.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Ever. I’m not having this conversation about Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em robots with you. I am out of the business of supplying weapons to the world.” Tony said tightly. One of the floor to ceiling windows swung inward and with a loud whine the Iron Man suit flashed through and landed behind Tony, splitting open for him. Tony stepped back into the suit which fastened around him, He left the faceplate up

“Doom does not want them,” Doom insisted. “But ….” Doom stood silently for a moment, ignoring the Avengers who were taking up defensive positions around him. Then he sagged a little, reached up and removed his helmet. As he unlatched and removed it, letting it hang loosely in his hand, he met Tony’s eyes.

“Stark, AIM provided me with 24 MODOKs -.”

“Missouri Department of Corrections?”

“MODOK with a K! Mechanized Organisms Designed Only for Killing. In conjunction, they are supposed to form a rudimentary hive mind. Doom … I procured them in order to augment my Doombots. However, they have developed a far keener intelligence and are attempting to take over Latveria. They have already killed over 100 of my people. I need your help,” he said quietly. “I know we are enemies, but there is no one else who knows as much as you do about AIs.”

Tony stepped closer, the suit a comforting weight around him. “You’ve been feeling me out. All of these so-called attacks.” He frowned. “Why didn’t you just ask for my help in the first place?” He could feel his hands itching to touch Doom’s tech as well as check out what AIM had been up to.

“Would you have given it?” Doom spread out his hands.

Tony pondered. “I don’t know. Maybe?” He shrugged, the suit opened and he stepped out it, putting himself within reach of Doom. “Victor, I’ll help you. But you’ve gotta stop with the supervillainy. That’s why you don’t have any reliable friends.” Natasha sniffed, and Tony started, remembering where they were and that they had an audience. Steve was looking at him with horrified disbelief and Clint was poised with an arrow ready to fire. Bruce was distinctly green in hue but holding steady in his human form for now. “Let’s all relax,” Tony said calmingly. “Put our feet up. Have a seat, Vic. So … are they as intelligent as that Israeli AI that can play Mortal Kombat?”

Bruce added, “And are they a they or a singular entity?” Tony pointed at him and nodded.

Doom glared at them, “Please do not presume the acquaintance, Mr. Stark. And, no. Together they are much more advanced than that. On par with your creations.”

“Well, OK, then it’s Dr. Stark to you,” Tony said, moving toward the couch but keeping an eye on Doom. “And first, you don’t know anything about my creations. Second, I doubt that.”

Doom perched uncomfortably on the edge of the armchair and frowned. “You have not seen the wanton destruction, nor the loss of life.” Clint snorted and even Steve shook his head in disbelief.

“I’m sorry,” Natasha drawled. “But didn’t Squirrel Girl and Tippy-Toe take down a MODOK _and_ AIM? And you can’t handle your bots?”

Doom replied, “It must be destroyed. Latveria suffers.”

“You want me to kill this AI?” Tony demanded and Victor nodded. Tony frowned.

“It’s not really killing, though, is it?” wondered Steve. “Isn’t it just a bunch of robots?”

“The hell it isn’t,” Tony replied. “If this is a strong AI, whether it’s a hive mind or not, then it has achieved personhood. When you destroy a person, that’s killing. Check the laws, even in Latveria.” Bruce nodded in agreement. “Don’t you have due process there? If it’s breaking the law, we can capture it and it can stand trial.”

“This AI may be a person morally, but legally there is no issue,” Doom said carelessly. “And it is causing havoc in my home, havoc that may well spread to other parts of the world. It has been seen phasing in and out of observable reality. There is no knowing where it … or they … may go next. It would be self-defense.”

“But why is it doing this?” Tony asked. “If you bought the individual MODOKs, why are you having a problem with it now? What did you do?”

“It matters not,” Doom said airily. “What matters is that it must be stopped.”

“So your solution is just to kill it?” Bruce asked angrily.

Doom said, “Of course!”

“This conversation reflects a fundamental misunderstanding of my character,” Tony pointed out. “I’m much more likely to be persuaded by a moral argument than a legal one. I’m surprised you don’t know that about me, to be honest.”

Doom remarked, “This is why Doom has chosen villainy rather than being a hero. There is entirely too much philosophizing on your end of the moral spectrum.”

“And paperwork,” complained Tony lightly.  “Tell me more about this AI you want me to murder. Because I won’t. But to prevent that, I might help you. There has to be a way to find out what its glitch is.”

“Tony?”

Tony didn’t discount Bruce the way he had the other Avengers. “What’s up, babe?”

“Two atoms bump into each other. One says ‘I think I lost an electron!’ The other asks, ‘Are you sure?’”

Tony grinned widely and replied, “I’m positive.”

“OK. Then I want in.”

 

“So … Latveria,” Bruce said lightly, stepping off the Starkjet onto the cold tarmac. “It’s … um … nice?”

“Now, now, we’re guests. Remember, not even Cap was good enough for Victor. You and I were the only ones who could get visas.” Tony followed him, pulling his scarf around his neck.

“Will the armor be safe on the jet?” Bruce asked worriedly.

“It’s not on the jet,” Tony replied. At Bruce’s raised eyebrow, he added, “No, I’m not fighting au natural. It’s above us, tracking me.” He held up one hand and shook it slightly, showing Bruce the bracelet. “I figured Victor would have his guys go over everything on the jet, so we’re flying the stripped down model today.”

“Gentlemen?” a woman in a long dark overcoat approached them. “I am your driver. I will be taking you to the castle. If you will follow me?”

 

“Thanks for the tour, Victor,” Tony said, sitting down and stretching his legs. Bruce perched on the couch next to him and accepted both glasses of wine that one of Doom’s servant proffered. The servant vanished back through the dimly lit archway, presumably back to the room where they had had supper. Bruce handed one of the glasses to Tony.

“OK, this thing where you wave off qualia … that has to be a pose. Who are you trying to impress with your existential edginess, Victor?” Tony said.

“There is no hard problem,” Doom replied, unbending enough to lean back slightly in his chair as he sipped his wine.

“Now he sounds like you Tony,” Bruce mused. “When you’re on one of your propositional attitude coding binges.”

Tony objected, “I have never disputed the existence of qualia, consciousness if you prefer. I’m like the poster boy for exciting subjective experiences.”

“What’s it like to be Iron Man?” Bruce quipped, carefully swirling the wine in his glass and watching it shine in the candle light.

“OK, Thomas Nagel, let’s not get salty,” Tony laughed. “It’s the Stark effect, not the SNARC Effect.”

“Doom hates both of you,” Victor said in frustration. “Conversation is a game to you.”

“Oh come on, Vic. Don’t you keep up with the reading? Dehaene’s computational models of consciousness? _Le Code de la conscience_ 2014? Very helpful when you’re thinking about designing intelligence from the ground up and what exactly constitutes executive control.”

“It is impossibly sexy when you cite your sources like that,” Bruce muttered, and Tony flashed him a grin.

“Yes, Doom hates you both.” Doom looked at them both, measuring them with his glance. “The servants have prepared separate rooms for you, but perhaps that won’t be necessary?”

Tony laughed. “This isn’t a vacation. We came here to solve your little problem. I have no intention of sleeping.”

Doom nodded. “Very well. Then … do you think that they truly constitute a strong AI? Is that possible?”

Bruce nodded. “Theoretically. If they are capable of instantaneous communication, then their separate processors would function as one. That actually lends itself to the computational theory of mind. If you have a complex enough system, able to solve complex problems, then you eventually achieve sentience.”

Tony set down his glass, the wine untasted, “The question is, how did AIM manage to create something capable of that level of interactivity?”

Doom sighed, pressing his fingers into his temple. “AIM did not. It was part of the augmentation package that I created, based upon the communication system used in the Doombots.”

“Ah, Bruce said. “Well, that explains some things.” Tony nodded. “I’m still not sure how they made the leap to sentience, though, if indeed they have. The Doombots are not sentient, are they?”

Doom shook his head.

Tony laughed. “This is all speculation. We won’t know more until we persuade them to communicate with us. I’ve had JARVIS working on establishing contact ever since we arrived in Latveria. So far, he’s only been able to get some sensor readings, but he’s had no purposeful responses to his pings.”

Doom sighed, “You have your artificial intelligence opening a dialogue with the one I inadvertently created?”

“Well, as my friend Dr. Banner here would say, ‘It’s only a paper moon.’”

“I have lost all patience with your ridiculous references. The entire world is bathed in American pop culture. Enough!” Doom complained.

Tony protested, “But it’s actually a helpful analogy in this case … I think. I’m actually not trying to be an elitist dick here. Bear with me.” Doom crossed his arms defensively and glowered at them both, but he stayed silent. “OK, so the paper moon. It’s like Schrödinger's cat, right? And by the way, he was Austrian, not American. So, if you believed in me, the paper moon would become real, right? Wave function collapse.”

“What does this have to do with the MODOKs? We just have to believe them into submission? Believe them to be harmless?” Doom sneered.

“No, of course not. But you have observed them phasing, right? And you think this is some kind of quantum entanglement?”

Doom nodded slowly.

Bruce said, “So we measure them? That seems way too simple. And didn’t you say that JARVIS has already taken some readings? That’s a form of measurement.”

“Yes and no.  See -.” Tony was abruptly cut off by an alarm that rang through the castle. In his ear, JARVIS sent a quick burst of information that had him standing and calling for the armor. “I need to get outside, Doom!” he said. “I have Iron Man incoming.”

“What is it?” Bruce said frantically, rising and grabbing the small case that Tony thrust at him. “Do we need the Other Guy?”

Doom slipped a comm rig over his ear and tapped it. “The MODOKs have been spotted. They’re advancing upon the center of the city. We must intercept them before they do more damage.” He rose and said, “This way.”

Tony and Bruce followed him. “Let’s not involve the Hulk if we don’t have to,” said Tony quietly, his hand on Bruce’s elbow pulling him in close. “You hang on to the measurement equipment.  It has a direct link to JARVIS. And he has a direct link to Steve. I don’t think we’ll need him, but just in case.”

 

“Tony, based on these readings, they aren’t sentient. At least no more so than maybe a dog.” Bruce smiled to himself. “I know you’re disappointed.” He closed the case that was balanced on his knees and stood. The fallen tree he had used for a seat scrubbed against the dirt at the edge of the trail. Down the trail was the castle and the winding path into the city center. Above him, the sky was slowly darkening as the sun began to descend. “I can meet you at the bottom of the hill and find another location to scan from. I just have to get in range and I think JARVIS and I can stop them in their tracks.”

When Tony replied, his voice was mournful. “I am disappointed. Though I can’t deny that it makes the job easier.” His sigh was audible over the comm. “Why don’t we ever get the best possible option though?”

Bruce replied, “I don’t know but -.”

Tony cut him off. “Hang on, Bruce. They’re turning back toward you. Victor and I are going to try to herd them toward the sensor array he has set up on top of the hill you’re on. See it?”

Bruce turned and peered upward. Set higher up on the hill above the city was a blunt tower pierced with several different types of sensors. “I see it. I’ll meet you there.” He shoved the case under one arm and started the brief but arduous climb.

“Be careful,” Tony warned.

Just as Bruce reached the crest of the hill, he saw the gold and red flash of Iron Man speed past and heard the whine of the repulsors. Close on his heels, the MODOKs each vied to be the first to tag him and toss him from the air. Bruce squatted down and wrenched open the case, activating the sensor interface and searching for the signal that would indicate the MODOKs were preparing to phase. As JARVIS scanned all frequencies, Bruce honed in on the signal. “I’ve almost got it,” he muttered. Iron Man flashed past again, the MODOKs following him in a tight figure 8 above the tower. The indicator on the board before him lit green when Bruce managed to capture the MODOKs’ signal; they were now trapped in this location and vulnerable. Now all he had to do was upload the virus that would render them inert.

Suddenly, Doom appeared on the hill, his hands outstretched. “Begone, demons!” he shouted.

“Wait!” Bruce called. “I’ve almost neutralized them!”

“They must be destroyed!” Doom thrust his hands toward the MODOKs and there was a flare of light. Iron Man was thrown to the side, crashing onto the rim of hard soil next to the tower. As for the tower itself, there was an enormous crash and it toppled slowly forward, barely missing the last of the MODOKs as they streamed away from the fight. Iron Man rose unsteadily and ran at a diagonal out of the path of the tower’s descent and toward Bruce. The tower slammed into a squat, brutalist building on the edge of the cliff, tearing off chunks of concrete and rebar that tumbled over the cliff and down the hill toward a small wooden structure. Horrified, Bruce noted that there was a listing seesaw in front of the building below and crudely painted flowers on the low wall that surrounded its courtyard. Just as Tony reached him, the faceplate already up, Bruce grabbed his hand and pointed. They ran to the edge of the cliff, Tony cursing his badly dented armor, as the concrete rained down on the wall, burying everything in dust and rubble.

“We must hurry!” Doom said from behind them. “The MODOKs are moving toward the new Latverian sports arena!”

Bruce said shakily, green pulsing under his skin, “You … you just destroyed that … that school down there? It’s full of people we need to rescue. What about the kids?”

Doom shrugged, “It’s an orphanage. They are orphans. No one will miss them, and it will save the state the expense of caring for them.” He urged them again, “We must go!”

Tony looked at Doom, then at Bruce, then at Doom again, his expression hardening. “Um, yeah, that is really not going to work for us.” He held out his arms to Bruce, “Want a lift, sweetheart?” At Bruce’s dubious look he added, “It’ll still fly.”

Doom sighed irritably, “Why do you care about them if they are not of your household?”

Tony pressed at the headache developing behind his eyes. “Because they are innocents.”

“No one is innocent,” Doom said shortly.

“Do you really believe that,” Bruce asked in exasperation, stepping into Tony’s arms, “or is this part of your supervillain persona? This ridiculous part that you have to play where you refer to yourself in the third person and make proclamations? Because that stuff? Is stupid and counterproductive to actually mattering in this world.”

“This is tremendous talk for someone who spends most of his life hiding out in forgotten places and trying not to be seen,” Doom replied scornfully.

The faceplate on the Iron Man suit slammed down and Tony took off, Bruce tucked securely against him, and headed toward the demolished orphanage.

As they set down amidst the rubble, Tony said, “Banner or Hulk?” Bruce’s face twisted and Tony added, “I’m just asking, Big Guy. It’s your call.”

Bruce stepped away and focused his energy, undoing the internal chains that kept the Hulk contained. As his body twisted and convulsed, he begged, “Don’t let him hurt anyone. Don’t let him hurt you.” His expression grew slack and his face coarsened, the green flush under his skin blooming darker. He groaned in pain as the Hulk erupted through him.

“Never, Green Bean. Never.”

The Hulk sized up the situation, lightly patting the ground. “Tony need help?”

“Hulk! Yes, I need you to help me rescue some children.” He pointed at the ruins of the orphanage. “There. But we have to be very careful.”

The Hulk nodded. “Show.”

 

“There were so many dead kids, Tony,” Bruce said dully. “I can’t … fuck Dr. Doom! Why the hell are we helping him? He doesn’t care.”

“I know,” Tony said softly.

 

Exhausted, Bruce tipped forward onto Tony’s bed. Dimly, he felt Tony fussing around him, wiping his dusty skin with a damp rag and finger combing his hair. Then he felt a heavy, warm blanket being drawn up over him. With his final reserve of strength, he said, “Don’t leave me.”

The last thing he was aware of before he slipped away was a brief kiss on his forehead.

When he awoke, he was alone. Slowly he rose, returned to his room, and went to shower. As he dressed afterward, he heard voices in the corridor outside. Then there was a sharp rasp at his door. He opened the door and one of Doom’s servants was standing there, Tony’s bag and the case resting on the floor at his feet. “It is done. When you are ready, the driver will take you to the airport so that you may return home.” Wordlessly, Bruce turned and went to grab his bag. He turned back. “I’m ready.”

On the plane, Bruce sat down and pulled out his phone. “Steve?”

“Hey, Bruce. We just heard from SHIELD that you guys neutralized the threat. Were they AIs after all?”

“No,” Bruce said. “Not really. More like a pack of wolves. Intelligent … but not people.” He closed his eyes.

“Are you headed back now?”

“Tony should be there soon. He flew ahead.” Bruce scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I’ll be there in a few hours.”

“Oh.” There was a short silence. “OK. Well, then we’ll see you when you get here.”

After the long flight and the drive from the airport, Bruce was exhausted. JARVIS automatically sent the elevator to the penthouse, bypassing Bruce’s floor and the common area. He left his bag and the case in the foyer to the penthouse and walked in. When he entered the room, Tony was sitting deep in the couch, a heavy wool throw draped casually over him, staring glassily at the middle distance. Bruce felt all of his carefully constructed calm immediately desert him. “How could you leave me like that?”

Tony shrugged. “I thought it would be better.” He rubbed his hands together.

“Why do you get to choose for me?” Bruce bit off angrily. “Because you don’t trust me?”

“Hey, no harm, no foul,” Tony said vacantly, his eyes still unfocused. He pulled the edge of the throw back toward him when it drooped. “We all came home in the end so … mission success.”

“No. You don’t get to choose for me. I don’t care what your issues are.” Bruce felt his hands clenching and forced himself to relax.

Tony’s eyes finally focused and he said snidely, “Brucie, speaking of issues, you and I both know you’re not the most stable and the whole kid thing -.”

“What? What about the whole kid thing? Is that a subtle allusion to the fact that you’ve read my file? Huh?” Bruce’s voice has gone cold and dry, but Tony knew that rage sounded a lot more like ice than any allusions to heated words would suggest.

“Calm down, Bruce,” Tony said, looking a little concerned and then he shivered and clutched the wool tighter.

Disgusted, Bruce said, “Great. And now you’re worried about the Other Guy.”

“No. Never. It’s … I’m just cold.” He shivered again and tucked his chin down.

Bruce gestured wordlessly at the sunlight pouring through the wall of windows.

“I know. It’s stupid,” Tony muttered, attempting to suppress the shivering and gripping the throw. His fingers felt like ice and he ached.

“You really are cold.” Bruce was suddenly concerned. “Are you getting sick?” He took a hesitant step forward.

“Not exactly. It’s just … have you ever hurt so much that it makes you feel chilled? And then I start thinking about all of these cold places … caves, outer space.” Tony’s voice trailed off and his eyes lost their focus again for a moment.

“Tony -.”

“It’s nothing. I’ll get over it. I’m not trying to derail your … Pepper moment.” He waved a hand expressively and then tucked it back under the edge of the blanket. He was pale and his eyes looked bruised and distant.

“Pepper moment?” Bruce asked and Tony shook himself.

This time he sounded mean, caustic. “Where you critique my behavior, my attitude, my -.”

Bruce cut through the litany, “What’s your number?”

Tony didn’t pretend to misunderstand, but he did stall for a moment. Under Bruce’s insistent gaze, he finally said, “Um … maybe a 7 or an 8. I definitely wish I wasn’t conscious right now.”

“JARVIS, was Tony injured in Latveria?”

Tony sighed as JARVIS responded, “He has exacerbated some existing injuries, but there were no new fractures.”

“And has Tony taken his meds?”

“Mr. Stark disposed of his NSAID two days after filling the prescription.” JARVIS managed to sound disappointed, disapproving, and worried. Tony smiled, despite himself.

Bruce ran his hand over his face in frustration. “Is there any way we can fill his prescriptions again? And have them delivered? He has -.”

Tony interrupted, “I’m not taking the tramadol. I’m not running the risk of addiction, and I have enough trouble breathing as it is. Not taking that one.”

“OK. That’s fair. But you can take the NSAID… piroxicam, right?” Tony nodded grudgingly.

“I will arrange it, Dr. Banner.”

Bruce sat next to Tony on the couch, his hurt tabled for now. “I’m still going to have this conversation with you, but not right now.”

Tony said fitfully, “If you want to have it, let’s fucking have it.”

Bruce sighed. “OK. You want to do this now? Tell me. Tell me what you were thinking.”

Tony looked down at the blanket he had wrapped around him, visibly suppressing another shiver. He closed his eyes. “I was thinking that … when things go to hell … when you lose control … you vanish. You leave. You bail. I knew you were upset … all those kids. I just …” he trailed off.

Bruce drew in a sharp breath, astonished by how much this assessment hurt.

“And I’m not … ready for that. I lost Pepper. My fault. I … I’m an Avenger, but let’s be realistic. I don’t really connect with any of the rest of the team, and I’ll be the first one they walk away from. So … I have JARVIS, I have Rhodey … Happy, I guess. The bots. And you. I have you. At least … the start of something with you. Somehow you got in deep and … when you leave it’s gonna hurt. I feel like I can’t lose again. It’s too much. So I’m trying to prevent it. But, as I’ve proven so many times before, I’m so shit at human relationships that I actually cause the thing to happen that I’m trying to prevent.”

Bruce carefully put an arm over Tony’s hunched shoulders and pulled him in. “Tony … I’m sorry. I get why you think I’d run and why you might not believe me when I say that I won’t. But I have every intention of staying here with you. You’re not as bad with people as you seem to think. And,” he swallowed, but forced himself to go on, “I think you’d be surprised at how much the rest of the team actually cares about you.”

Tony buried his face in the juncture of Bruce’s neck and shoulder.

“But I’m going to tell you this one time, and I expect you to listen,” Bruce said. “Don’t ever lie to me again, even if you think it’s for my own good. And don’t you ever leave me behind again. OK?”

“It sounds like you might … care about me,” Tony muttered.

Bruce replied, “There are 2 types of people in this world, Tony. Those who can extrapolate from incomplete data.” He was rewarded by a snort of laughter against his skin.

“Also,” Tony said distantly. “I know they weren’t sentient … but I still felt like I was killing something that had the potential to be a person someday.” Bruce hugged him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I borrowed some ideas about MODOK clones forming a hive mind from "Young Avengers Present" and MODOK Superior.


	6. Chapter 6

As Bruce’s report drew to a close, Steve frowned. “What the hell, Tony? You went off with Doom without Bruce for back up? I knew we shouldn’t have let you go.”

“Here we go,” muttered Clint. “If we’re at the fighting portion of the debrief, can I be excused?” Natasha raised her hand and pointed at herself. Steve gave them both a dark look.

Tony drew himself up. “ _Let_ me go?  Newsflash, you have zero control over my behavior.”

“Isn’t that the truth,” Steve replied. “You know what I mean. We should’ve gone as team. To hell with what Doom wanted. If he wanted our help, he should’ve been forced to host the entire team.” He spread his hands out flat, palms down, on the tabletop.

Tony replied, “So you think we should just force our way in, regardless of what a sovereign nation wants? I mean, I know Doom’s a dick, but -.”

“Isn’t that what you did in Gulmira?” Steve cut in sharply. Bruce winced.

Stung, Tony pulled back from the table. “That’s different.”

“How is it different? Tell me. I want to know,” Steve demanded, standing up.

“It … it just is. I don’t have to explain myself to you.” Tony rose a little unsteadily to face him and then shoved his chair in. “I’ll be in the workshop.” Bruce got up quietly without looking at them, pushed his chair in and left the room as well.

After Tony stormed out, Clint sighed. “Damn, Steve,” said Clint. “I think you were a little rough on him.”

“I just don’t understand why he would help Dr. Doom, why Tony would trust him to tell the truth. Didn’t he learn his lesson with SI selling weapons to terrorists?” Steve said angrily. “And he has no room to talk about respecting sovereignty.”

Natasha shrugged. “Maybe he thinks Doom could become a useful ally. He is very intelligent, and it would definitely be better for everyone if he gave up super villainy.” She paused. “And it would set a dangerous precedent if we started going into countries that don’t want out help. People have a different view of the United States now than they did in the forties, Steve.”

Steve bit out. “Tony had no right to -.”

“How do you figure that, Cap?” Clint asked. “Tony doesn’t answer to anyone but himself. He makes his choices. Didn’t you read the ‘Iron Man Prior to the Avengers’ file addendum?”

Steve rounded on Clint. “I did. And he’s being a hypocrite now if half of the stuff I read in that file is true. He’s not a lone wolf anymore. His behavior is antithetical to the team approach,” he said hotly.

Clint put up his hands. “I’m not defending him. I’m just saying don’t get mad that water’s wet.” He sighed. “Anyway, he’s a grown man. And he’s not a soldier or an agent of SHIELD. So … everything he does he chooses to do.”

“Believe me,” Steve muttered. “I am well aware that he is not a soldier. He understands nothing about the chain of command.”

Clint said mildly. “I seem to recall you giving me a lecture once about not escalating situations. Strangely enough that one concerned Stark, too.”

Steve sat down heavily and rubbed his temples, pressed his fingers into his eye sockets. “I know,” he replied dully. “I know. I just … I don’t mean to … I know it gets his back up but …”

Clint moved to sit next to him. “But what, Cap?”

Steve flushed. “I just don’t … I don’t have anything else.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t have anything but this team. I barely recognize the country I fought to save and … the language is different, the music, the food … morality. How people dress.  Every day a hundred new things smack me in the face and it’s exhausting …” To his dismay, Steve felt tears well up in his eyes.

Clint slung an arm around him. “Hey, Cap. It’s OK. It’s OK.” He looked across the room, meeting Natasha’s dispassionate gaze.

“It really isn’t.” Steve pulled in on himself. “Half the time I feel like this is a dream, that it could all be taken away in an instant.”

“And the other half?”

Steve shook his head. “The other half I am so busy running at top speed to keep up that I don’t have time to think. And I think I prefer that. And … when Tony … when he goes off on his own … and I know he was Iron Man before there was a team, I know that! But when he does that I feel like … if he gets himself killed, if he doesn’t come back, that’s another person I’ve lost.” He looked around. “And we can’t deny that if we lose Tony, we lose a whole hell of a lot more than Iron Man. He makes our gear, he houses us, he _understands_ this world -.”

“Cap, you need to make some friends. You need a support system.”

“Yeah? Where’m I gonna find people I can trust outside of my team?”

Clint scratched his chin with his free hand and tightened his other arm around Steve’s shoulders. “I’m not really sure. But, you know, that SHIELD therapist I’ve been seeing isn’t bad. Maybe she could recommend someone for you to talk to. Someone who might have decent suggestions for you.” Steve leaned forward shaking his head, and Clint let his arm slide off. “Look. I don’t like talking to a therapist either. But I’m doing it so I can get back out there and cover Nat. And it has actually been helpful. I’m … I still have a lot of … I’m still really pissed about what happened to me. I know you’ve noticed that I flip out over small stuff sometimes.”

Steve grinned a little, wiping his eyes. “If that means that you get mad at the drop of a hat, then, yeah. I kinda noticed.”

“OK then. So that’s one of the things I’ve been working on. Not shoving that rage down where it pops out at the wrong time or the wrong person. But understanding it, accepting the shitty stuff, and finding a way to move on. You know?”

Steve looked at him. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“So do you want to go with me tomorrow and we can see about finding you someone to talk to?”

“Sure. Thanks, Clint.”

“OK then. Good talk. No more emotions today, please. Let’s go do something. C’mon, Nat.” Across the room, Natasha pushed off from the wall and picked up her jacket from the back of the chair.

“I could go for a burger,” Steve said.

“You got it, Cap.” Clint stood up, and after a moment Steve joined him.

“What about Tony? I should apologize to him.”

“He’ll keep. Or he’s elbows deep in a machine and he’s already forgotten about it,” Natasha said. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 “Wake up, Daddy’s home,” Tony said gruffly, entering the workshop. Around him, the holoprojectors started cycling through his most recent projects. “Vacation’s over. Lockdown the workshop. Nobody gets in and no messages unless it’s an alert.” He paused. “Or Pepper.”

“The bots would like to know how you enjoyed your Latverian outing,” JARVIS said as the lights all came up throughout the shop.

“My ‘outing’? Heavens to Betsy, JARVIS, when did I teach you to talk like an elderly auntie, and a snide one at that?” Tony said, already distracted by a visualization hovering in the air. “You were there. You know exactly what went down.” He reached forward and manipulated the holographic wireframe, turning the image in order to examine the point where he had left off work. “JARVIS, let’s finish that new configuration for Clint’s quiver so we can send it to fabrication and have him test it out. I bet we can find a way to integrate the touch sensors …”

An hour or so later, JARVIS interrupted himself in the middle of a discussion about arrowheads to say, “Sir, someone is attempting to breach the lockdown.” He lessened the tint on the glass and Tony turned, ready to do violence to the door if one of the Avengers had followed him to the workshop to harangue him some more. Instead, Rhodes stood there sheepishly waving at him through the glass and pointing at the keypad.

“Let him in, J. Then seal it up again.”

As he entered, Rhodey was already speaking, “Hey, Tony. What’s going on? I heard about your Latverian adventure. Very cool. Talk to me about those hive mind robots!”

“Apparently not very cool,” Tony grumbled, swiping the wire frame display closed.

“What do you mean?”

“I got the usual speech about being selfish and not communicating.”

Rhodes barked out a laugh, and then stopped to peer at him more closely. “Well, shit. This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”

“Rhodey -.” He felt his shoulders go up and the pull of the muscles around the reactor casing.

“Seriously, Tony. Since when do you care?” Rhodey frowned.

“I … I don’t know.”

“You’ve been a strutting motherfucker since I met you at MIT. I don’t know this guy who’s hiding out in his own home, not after I’ve seen you take down Senate subcommittees and terrorist cells.” Rhodes swung a stool around and planted himself. “I mean, I get that it’s cool to be on a team. Hell, I’m military all the way. I get it. But since when does Tony Stark need anybody’s approval? What happened to ‘not a team player’?”

Tony ran fingers through his hair. “You’re right, Rhodey. I don’t know.”

“If they’re good for you, then I’m all for it. But, Tony, you don’t need them, and you don’t need SHIELD.”

“I have to say, Honey Bear, I’m a little surprised at this attitude.”

“Oh, you have not seen any attitude. Not yet. The attitude’s gonna come out when I find out who did a number on your head.”

“Yeah, well, that would be my dad. Or Obie,” Tony said, his voice laced with regret.

“No,” Rhodey said, shaking his head. “I know that’s your fallback, but you have been doing things on your own just fine since Afghanistan.” He shook his head. “This … this is not a good look for you.”

“Colonel Rhodes, if I may interject?” JARVIS said.

“You see what I mean, Tony? You hear that? Your creation. And DUM-E and U. And Iron Man. You did not need the Avengers for any of that.” Tony shook his head, and Rhodey frowned at him again. “Sure, JARVIS. What’s up?”

“I believe that Director Fury has played upon Sir’s responsibility kink, as well as implying quite heavily that it is a mark of maturity to be invested in team work as opposed to self-reliance.”

“Hey now!” Tony objected. “Responsibility kink? Who taught you that? Was it Pepper? Happy? Who’s been encouraging my little JARVIS to take a walk on the naughty side?”

“You taught me everything I know, Sir,” JARVIS replied primly. “I learned it from you.”

“Tony.” Rhodey drew his attention back from where it had skittered away. “Don’t deflect. There is nothing wrong with self-reliance. There is nothing wrong with you. Trust yourself.”

“Why would you say that? You know how many bad decisions I’ve made in the past.”

“First, because I know you. And I know that when you tear something down and rebuild it, you are meticulous. So knowing that you have been tearing down your life and rebuilding it? I know you’re going to get it right.”

Tony felt tears prickle in the corner of his eyes.

“And second? The people who have been trying to make you question yourself have nothing that would make me trust their judgment more than I trust yours.”

“Not even Captain America?”

“Especially not him. Why would I rely on a guy from the 1940s who has recently gone through a major trauma to have a valid opinion about you? Not to mention that he fell into the hands of SHIELD who I really don’t trust. I’ve known you for years. You’re someone who helped to create the modern world we live in. What would Captain America know about any of that?” He smiled. “This is the Air and Space Museum, not the American History one!”

“Well, when you put it like that,” Tony grumbled softly, feeling all of his defenses finally start to slide down.

“Your life shouldn’t be an apology, Tony,” Rhodey said.

 

The next morning, Tony woke feeling strangely rested. The pull in his chest seemed better today. Maybe he should’ve tried the meds sooner. He even felt like eating breakfast. “JARVIS, is the team in the common area kitchen?”

“They are, Sir. They are currently discussing the incident in Latveria.”

“Seriously? Still? That is so yesterday.” He put a sweatshirt on over his T-shirt and shoved his feet into his pumas and then headed for the elevator.

When the elevator door opened up on the floor that housed the common area, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and pulled his shoulders back. Striding forward toward the kitchen, he caught Bruce saying, “We already talked it over, Steve.”

Tony entered the kitchen, taking in the general feeling of tension as he made for the coffee machine. Clint had obviously made the coffee because it was as black as engine oil and almost as thick. He poured himself a cup and inhaled, then turned to lean against the counter and gestured for the conversation that had stalled out to continue.

Steve looked at him for a beat before returning his gaze to Bruce. “I need to know that we can depend on each other. Tony left you behind in Latveria.”

“With a private jet,” Tony interjected. “That’s not exactly abandoning someone on the side of the road.”

Bruce said, “It’s fine.”

“It’s not fine! That’s not how you treat a team mate, especially one you supposedly care about,” Steve said, his tone growing more strident.

“It’s fine,” Bruce said angrily.  “He was … he was trying to spare me.”

“Guys,” Clint said. “Can we not?”

Steve turned his attention to Tony. “How could you do that? How can we trust you not to do that to the rest of us?”

“You’re acting like he left me on a battlefield,” Bruce said. “I’m an adult. I can find my way home.”

“In a private jet,” Tony snarked.

“Damn it, Tony!” Steve shouted. “This isn’t funny! I would never leave you behind like that … but if you’d do it to Bruce, you’d do it to any of us.”

Tony objected, “Hey, now -.”

“Just shut up, Steve,” Bruce said angrily. “Just shut up.” He took a deep breath and forced his shoulders down.

“And now you’re letting him defend you … you’re taking advantage of Bruce, Tony,” Steve said with disgust.

“I didn’t ask you to interfere on my behalf, Bruce,” Tony said angrily. “I don’t need anyone on my side.” He set down his half-finished coffee and pushed off from the counter.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. “We need to have this out! Don’t leave again.”

“We really don’t, Steve,” Bruce said, trying to deescalate the situation. Tony barked out a harsh laugh and left the kitchen, headed for the elevator which obligingly opened for him. Bruce called, “Tony, don’t -.”

 “Who do you think I am, Bruce?” Tony asked, frozen in the doorway of the elevator, his discomfort evident as he pulled back further and refused to meet the other man’s eyes.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Bruce could feel the Other Guy waking up beneath his skin, listening to the emotions that were running though his body like a child with his ear pressed against a railroad track.

“Am I taking advantage of you?” Tony pressed. “Using your childhood trauma to keep you in line?” He pressed the finger of his right hand hard against his collarbone.

Stung, Bruce pursued him, stopping on the threshold of the elevator and slapping a hand against the door to keep it from closing. “Don’t. That’s not what this is.”

“If you aren’t my Stockholmed victim, then who are you?” Tony demanded, his back against the corner of the elevator.

“I thought I was one of us. You and me. But you did leave me behind and now …” he trailed off. Tony’s face was all mask, the façade of an affable asshole and a stranger. “Tony, why did the chicken cross the road?” Bruce said, a little desperately, feeling everything start to crumble through his fingers. He was distantly aware of the others, spilling out of the kitchen into the entertainment room.

“You think jokes will make me forget how you’re trying to micromanage my life?” Tony bit out. “I don’t need you to monitor my meds, make me eat, keep me out of danger, make excuses for me. I don’t need any of that.”

Helplessly, Bruce said, “I’m not … I didn’t mean to -.”

“You are not my PA. You are not my … that’s not your job,” Tony finished more quietly.

“Then what am I?” Bruce asked sadly.

“A colleague. A friend, maybe? A teammate.” Tony scrubbed at his face. “I thought you were someone who understood me just a little bit.” He leaned his head back against the wall of the elevator. “Get in and let JARVIS shut the door,” he said wearily. “I don’t feel like having an audience for this.”

Bruce stepped inside and stared at him forlornly as the door slid shut and the elevator started. “I don’t know how to do this, Tony,” he finally said. “You are the first person I’ve had regular daily contact with in years. The first person I could have real, meaningful conversations with.” He laughed bitterly. “I’ve forgotten how to be this Bruce Banner. To be the real Bruce Banner.”

Tony stared at him then, silent for a few long moments. Then he spoke. “Either because the distance between the chicken and the side of the road that it was on before it crossed is expanding, or the distance is contracting and will collapse on itself,” Tony said with a sigh. “I don’t know which one of those is scarier.” Bruce took a chance and stepped forward. Tony allowed himself to be boxed in and leaned forward just far enough to rest his forehead against the place where Bruce’s shoulder curved into the column of his neck. “I’m … I’m sorry, Bruce. I told you to trust me and I’ve already let you down. You are. You’re one of us.”

Bruce raised a hand and rested his palm on the back of Tony’s head. “There’s two of us, you know,” he said gently.

“Is it enough? Because I’m told that I can be difficult,” said Tony.

“Same,” Bruce replied. “But what else do I have?”

“Am I the consolation prize then? Since you can’t have your old life back?” Tony’s face twisted a little as he pulled back, prepared to deflect and cover up his feelings again. Bruce reached out and again put out a gentle hand, this time on the side of Tony’s face, to prevent him from turning away.

“No. I thought you wanted me to stay. Or is that just something you say when you’re feeling bad?” Bruce demanded. Tony looked at him guiltily, and Bruce added, “Are you done pushing me away?”

“Probably not,” Tony admitted with a sigh, putting a hand over Bruce’s. “But I will try. What about you?”

“I’ll try.” Bruce leaned in and kissed him, a brief meeting of lips with the slightest of exhalations. Tony smiled against his mouth and pushed closer, parting his own lips. Their eyes met.

“So, Dr. Banner, is this real? Am I real? Or is this a simulation?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think it matters.”

“Sure it matters.”

Bruce leaned in again and kissed him, deeper this time, with more pressure and more intent. Tony chuckled against his lips, dug hard muscular fingers into Bruce’s upper arms and pulled him forward roughly. 

Suddenly, Steve’s voice cut sharply through the quiet of the elevator, sounding out of all of the loudspeakers at once. “Avengers Assemble!” Tony looked at the speaker, “Are you fucking kidding me?”

 

Steve met them on the roof and chivvied them into the quinjet. “It’s a call out from SHIELD. I’ll explain on the way.”

Clint nodded, “Where are we headed? Coordinates?”

“37°14′06″N 115°48′40″W,” replied Steve, pulling on his cowl as Clint started the preflight checks.

Tony stopped on the ramp, the suit assembled around him but with the faceplate up. “Uh, guys?”

Bruce said, fastening his seatbelt, “Aren’t those the coordinates for Groom Lake?”

“Area 51! Awesome!” Clint said, pumping a fist.

“Guys?” Tony repeated.

“What? Tony, we need to go! Are you riding with us or flying out under your own steam?”

“I was … here’s the thing … if something were happening at Area 51, I would have already heard about it.”

“Why is that?” Natasha asked curiously.

“Well, Scully, you’re not gonna believe this,” he grinned at her. “Nothing? Really?” He sighed in frustration. “Because I own it. And SHIELD knows that. They have to. I know Fury knows because he was very unhappy about it when I bought it.”

“What?” Clint said, turning in his seat. “I didn’t know about that! When were you planning on sharing this fact?”

“It’s no big deal. I needed a place to test experimental aircraft … it was a good investment. Howard had done a lot of classified work out there, so I had an in with the people in charge … yet another reason the military isn’t too happy with me right now.”

“What about the aliens? Roswell? The men in black?” Clint asked, moving quickly through his preflight. Steve looked at Clint blankly.

Bruce lightly touched the empty seat next to him, a silent invitation for Tony to join him. “Be honest. It’s a TARDIS, isn’t it? You’re working on time travel out there.”  
  
“Well,” replied Tony, finally entering the quinjet fully and moving toward Bruce. “Howard _was_ an original member of the Majestic 12 …”  


 

Clint put the jet down on the tarmac and Steve said, “I don’t see anything, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t there.”

Tony nodded, “I’ve got satellite imagery and scans saying there’s something over behind the largest warehouse that shouldn’t be there.”

Clint objected, “We would’ve seen it before I put her down.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Hawkeye. Eye in the sky says it’s there. I don’t know why I wasn’t notified earlier…”

“What does it look like, Tony?” Steve said.

Tony took another look at the data on the HUD. “Oh shit. It looks like they’re phasing in and out.”

Bruce said wearily, “MODOKs?” He grabbed a Starktablet from the webbing next to his head.

This time Tony sounded dubious. “If MODOKs grew extra appendages and got significantly bigger … then yes.”

“Damn it.” Bruce looked over at Natasha. “I’m sure the Other Guy is going to make an appearance, so I’m going to run down our findings from Latveria with you. If these are MODOKs, we have a way to stop them but you’ll have to know the correct sequence. And you’ll need help from JARVIS.” He looked at Tony. “I don’t suppose you have that sensor case here.”

Natasha nodded, rising to look over Bruce’s shoulder at the tablet in his hands. “Show me while Tony builds one from scratch.” She looked up and smiled when Tony grabbed a plastic case from underneath the seat and popped it open, pulling out an Arduino board with a satisfied smile.

 

The tentacle of energy lashed out again and this time it caught him on the side of the armor. He felt the familiar shudder of electricity race through him, centering painfully in his chest and making his heart skip and then whiting out his vision. In the distance, he could feel the suit impact with the side of the hanger and, although the undersuit buffered a lot of the impact, it still hurt.

“Son of a bitch,” he gasped hoarsely, dizzy from hypoxia and the burn in his chest. “I don’t want to … have to … rebuild this hang -.”

Steve’s voice cut in over the comms. “Iron Man, are you OK? Hawkeye, eyes on the Hulk. He’s going berserk and tearing up the runway. Keep him away from the jet or we’ll have to walk home.”

Tony huffed as the tingle of the electrical shock faded away. “Just let me … catch … my breath, Cap. Don’t let Bruce … leave. Still … a flight risk.” The tentacle swung up in the air above him, and alarms went off in the HUD again.  “Oh shit -.”

This time he knew he had lost consciousness. There was a time skip and he didn’t actually remember the impact of the tentacle or the ground. The HUD was dark and his heart was pounding and there was no air. “JARVIS?” he gasped into the silent darkness. There was no reply. Hoping the threat was over, Tony popped the faceplate and the world swam into focus, bright sunlight reflecting off of the cement a few inches from his face. He felt his heart skip again, and he sucked in a deep breath despite the pain and strange pressure in his chest. “Oh ow,” he complained. “Ow. God … fucking … dammit.”

Suddenly tanned bare feet appeared in his field of vision. “Brucie,” he said happily. “You didn’t … bail.”

“Are you OK, Tony? Want to get up now?” Bruce crouched down so he could look worriedly at Tony’s face.

“No.” Tony closed his eyes.

“No?”

“Not enough air. Just want to breathe. For a while,” he said laboriously.

“OK. I’m going to reboot the armor so we can get JARVIS to scan you for injuries before we move you,” Bruce said comfortingly. “You breathe.”

There was another time skip and then he could feel the armor come alive around him. JARVIS’ voice sounded distant as he said, “- no major injuries. Mr. Stark should be able to move from his current position without danger now. However, I would suggest that this recent episode of arrhythmia be reported to Mr. Stark’s doctor.”

Steve said, “OK, team, you heard JARVIS. Let’s get Iron Man upright.”

“Aw, J, worried about Daddy,” Tony slurred as he felt himself being dragged upward.

 “Always, Sir,” JARVIS replied dryly. “It seems to be my lot in life.”

Once he was upright, Tony looked around at the damage. “What did I miss?”

Clint said, “Natasha kicked MODOK ass at Area 51!” Natasha smiled and sketched a quick curtsy that had even Steve grinning.

Bruce put up a palm and said, “High 5, Science Sister!”

Tony took a few more deep breaths to reoxygenate his blood and then said, “Hey, Cap, I need to check out the main bunker and make sure there isn’t any major damage there. Some of those systems are pretty delicate and I probably need to lock them down until I can get a team out here to run a full inspection.”

Steve leveled a stern glare at him. “One of use should go with you. Just in case. You lost consciousness several times. I can’t believe you don’t have a concussion.”

“I’m hard headed,” Tony replied cheerfully.

“Don’t I know it.” Steve looked completely fed up.

To forestall the argument, Bruce said tiredly, “I’ll go with him.”

Tony gave him a long look. Then he nodded and turned toward the bunker. Steve said, “If you take more than 30 minutes, we’re coming in after you.” Bruce acknowledged him with a wave and followed Tony in.

Inside, it was evident that the battle on the tarmac had rocked the structure. One of the metal walls had taken a hit and the paneling that lined the inside was splintered and twisted. One of the bookshelves had fallen and the floor was littered with battered paperbacks and sprung binders. As Bruce looked around, Tony booted up an ancient terminal that looked like an Alto and ran some checks, muttering to JARVIS the entire time. After several minutes, Tony shut down the terminal and Bruce was preparing to leave when Tony looked at him, his eyes alight, and said, “Wanna see something cool?”

Bruce raised his eyebrows and said, “Please tell me you don’t have the Roswell UFO.”

“You wish. Better. Come on.”

With trepidation, Bruce followed Tony down a narrow hallway decorated with dusty metal framed photos of men in suits and military uniforms and safety certificates. At the end of the hall, there was a large steel door on massive, shielded hinges, completely out of place against the flimsy wood paneling of the hallway and outer room. Tony flipped open a plate on the exterior of the door and pressed his palm to it and something made a deep sound from within, rattling the frames against the wall. Tony stepped back and the door swung open slowly.  Once it was open sufficiently, Tony glanced back at Bruce with a grin and then stepped over the high threshold and into the space beyond. After a moment’s hesitation, Bruce followed.

The metal door shut behind them with a pneumatic thunk and the air cyclers punched on. The lights flickered up dimly and Bruce looked around. “Wow, this looks like Apollo-era Mission Control. I like it.”

“How much do you like it, Dr. Banner?” Tony looked up from the bank of moribund computers he was examining. “Is this our first date?” He smiled.

“I like it a lot, Dr. Stark.” Bruce stepped forward, suddenly acutely aware that all he had on were his battered ‘Hulk pants’ and some ill-fitting vans Clint had found under the pilot’s seat in the quinjet. “So you’ve never brought anyone else here? Even though you own it?”

“I do like the look. I was thinking about buying one of those missile silos and redoing it as a home. This place … I don’t know. It really should get an update.” Tony shrugged fluidly, the panels of the suit shifting across his upper chest and shoulders with small noises. Bruce took another step forward, his eyes locked on Tony’s face. “But I’m thinking you’re digging the original décor?”

“I am. It’s stimulating,” Bruce said quietly in the dimness and took another deliberate step.

“Someone told me recently that I was kinky,” Tony said softly, looking at Bruce’s mouth. “Actually, it was JARVIS. But you may have me beat.”

“I think you like this place just as much as I do,” Bruce replied, closing in on him. “Otherwise, you wouldn’t have brought me here.” He ran one hand down the chest panels of the armor. “Take off the suit.”

“Make me,” Tony breathed, his head aching and dizzy with every throb of his pulse.

“Take off the suit.”

Tony gave the command and the suit opened up for him to step out. The undersuit clung to him like a second skin and his hair was slightly damp with sweat. He reached up to loosen the clasp at his throat and Bruce said, “No.” Tony’s hand stilled immediately.

“Where do you want me?” he asked, his voice rough and his eyes wide. Bruce gestured toward the bank of dormant computers in the corner with a low counter for the operator. Tony backed toward the corner, his eyes never leaving Bruce’s as Bruce again closed the gap between them. As the backs of his thighs hit the countertop, Tony fumbled backwards to keep his balance. One hand connected with a rotary phone, surprising a rusty ring out of it. Tony barked out a short laugh.

“Nervous?”

“Why would I be nervous? My science buddy has me at his mercy in a location that is prime for unanticipated time travel. I’m just waiting for a Dalek to wheel around the corner.”

“Tony,” Bruce said softly, his mouth just inches from Tony’s.

“Yes, Bruce?” Tony smiled, his pupils huge in the dimness.

“Don’t tempt fate. I’ve had enough robots today.” Bruce smiled and knelt in front of him, feeling a shiver run through his body at the breathless sound Tony made then. As he leaned forward to press his lips against the outline of Tony’s cock through the undersuit, he felt a hand drop onto his head and fingers work their way through his curls.

“Bruce, there are never enough r- … ah, oh my god, this is …” Tony groaned, one hand fumbling at the fastener to his undersuit. “I have to …”

Bruce took pity and reached up to help Tony undo his suit and pull it down. “So you like this?” His hand lingered over some of the deep bruises that were already forming on Tony’s torso.

“You have no idea. This is like all of my teenage NASA fantasies come true,” Tony said urgently. He dragged Bruce up bodily and reeled him in for a kiss, his hand fumbling at the loose waistband of Bruce’s battered pants. Bruce pressed forward, trapping Tony between his body and the cracked formica of the countertop. Then he pulled away from Tony’s mouth to start a line of rough kisses along his jaw, down his neck, up by his ear. Tony groaned again, rutting against him.

“So retrofuturism gets you hot?” he asked breathlessly, licking a strip along one of the major muscles in Tony’s neck.

“Like nothing else,” Tony returned, shoving Bruce’s pants down and palming his cock. Bruce thrust against him again roughly, then grabbed Tony’s hands and forced them back onto the countertop.

“Tell me about it?” Bruce suggested, rubbing against Tony and tightening his grip on the other man’s wrists.

“Oh god, this is so ….” Tony’s head fell back and Bruce gave into the temptation to suck a bruise in the skin of his throat. Tony moaned, shuddering against him.

“Tell me,” he said, his lips still flush against Tony’s skin. “Did you masturbate to pictures of astronauts?”

“Well …”

“Tell me.”

“There was this picture of one of the software developers working on the Apollo program…”

“You are a deeply weird person, Tony,” Bruce chuckled, releasing Tony’s wrists.

“What? Math brains are stimulating.”

Bruce ground against him, then spit into his palm and clasped their cocks together loosely. Tony kept his own hands very carefully on the counter behind him, but shifted his weight forward a bit, leaning into Bruce’s shoulder and turning his head so that his mouth was close to Bruce’s ear. “Are you going to make me come, Bruce?” he whispered. “Because it wouldn’t take much. I’ve been waiting for you for so long.”

“Since when?”

“Since I laid eyes on you on the helicarrier,” he said roughly. “When I looked up and saw you standing there.”

Bruce laughed, stroking them both carefully, mindful of the lack of adequate lubrication. “I find that hard to believe when I was in the same room with Steve and Thor,” he said breathlessly.

“It’s true.” Tony hissed a breath through his teeth, turning his face so that his forehead dug into Bruce’s shoulder. “Oh.”

“You like that?” Bruce twisted his wrist and gripped them both a little tighter.

“Oh god,” Tony muttered, his teeth against Bruce’s shoulder now. “Oh … I knew … God. I am so ready for you to fuck me. Or me to fuck you. I don’t care. I just want … oh …”

“When you close your eyes,” Bruce muttered, his pulse racing, “what are you seeing? Tell me about these NASA fantasies.”

Tony gasped. “The IBM 360 mainframes with the spinning tape drives, the lights blinking, Ford-Philco consoles with the rotary dials, pneumatic tubes, … uh … those big square clunky buttons.” His fingers flexed, the tendons and muscles in his wrists moving, and his short nails scratched audibly along with counter.

Amused, Bruce asked, “How is it that no one realizes what an enormous nerd you are?” Then he twisted his wrist again and smiled as Tony jerked and shuddered against him. “Tell me more.”

“The vacuum tubes.”

“Slide rules?” Bruce suggested and Tony sucked in a breath and nodded.

“Toggle switches. The sound of heavy plastic buttons with typed labels. They take … oh … they take a couple of pounds of pressure to depress.”

 “Teenage fantasy, now,” Bruce demanded, so turned on that he couldn’t believe he was still maintaining his control.

“I’m assigned to the back room, but EECOM has to step out. He sends a MOCR access badge for me through the p-tube.  So I put it on, and I’m able to get on the floor. When I get there, the Flight Director actually turns and acknowledges me before I take my station at EECOM.”

“EECOM?” Bruce twisted his wrist again and felt Tony shake in response.

“Electrical, Environmental, and Communications systems,” Tony gasped.

Bruce captured his mouth and felt the other man melt into him. They explored for a moment and then Bruce pulled back. “And then?”

“I catch an issue with a system that is edging out of the allowed parameters. People around me don’t know what’s going on, so I’m referencing the strip chart and having this intuition of what the problem is, something with the buses usually. Once the problem is solved and I’ve averted a major issue, FLIGHT goes to get a cup of coffee. He passes my console where I’m still logging everything in the binder. And he puts his hand on my shoulder and squeezes approvingly.”

Bruce felt a pang of something like pity for the lonely nerdy child he heard in Tony’s voice, but he kept his tone playful, “And then sex?”

With mock offense Tony snorted, “Uh no! Gross! He was like 38!” Bruce smothered a laugh against Tony’s skin.

“Then EECOM returns, gives me a gruff thank you, and I go to the back room and everyone there wants a piece of me. Then sex. Hot NASA orgy back room sex.”

“I wish I had known you then,” Bruce whispered quietly into Tony’s ear.

“We would’ve raised hell together,” Tony agreed with a smile. “But you know me now, and there’s still plenty of hell left. That has to be enough until we figure out time travel. How many more minutes do we have before Captain America bursts in here to save us?”

Bruce laughed, “Not nearly enough.”


	7. Chapter 7

Back on the quinjet, Steve looked at Tony, helmet off but still in the armor and sitting perfectly still, and said, his eyebrows drawn down in a frown, “Are you OK, Tony?”

“Fine, Cap,” Tony replied briefly, his eyes closed. “I’m OK.” He had a faint smile on his face, but there was also pain etched there.

“He has some pretty severe bruising on his left side, maybe a cracked rib or two,” Bruce said quietly, dropping his blanket and rising from the bench. “And his left arm was already stiffening up back at the site.” He shuffled over to the first aid locker, placing one hand lightly against the side of the jet to stabilize himself, and opened it, hefting a small oxygen tank and mask. Almost as an afterthought, he leaned down and grabbed some ibuprofen.

“Did the gamma give you X-ray vision, Doc?” Clint quipped without looking back.

“No, I took a look inside the bunker.” Bruce braced a hand over Tony’s head and said, “Tony, I’m going to put you on some oxygen. You’re not looking too good. And you _are_ going to see a doctor about the arrhythmia.”

Tony angled his face up at Bruce and winked. “I think you know I’m just fine.” However, he held his hand out and allowed Bruce to tip the ibuprofen into his palm. The tablets skittered across his repulsor and he bent his fingers slightly to keep them contained.

As Tony peered down at the tablets in his palm, Steve winced and said, “I hate when you do that. It’s like you’re looking down at a loaded gun you have pointed at your face.” He ran a hand over his forehead and eyes. “Please … don’t do that, Tony.”

Bruce nodded agreement and said, “Humor me and use the oxygen for a while. Your breathing is a little labored, and there’s no reason to let the pain get any further ahead of you.” Natasha handed Bruce a water bottle and he reached down and plucked the tablets from Tony’s palm, replacing them with the bottle. “Open your mouth.”

“Have I told you how much I’m enjoying your bossy side?” he mumbled around the tablets.

“More than I’m currently enjoying your sassy side,” Bruce returned, gesturing at the water bottle. “Drink up so I can put the mask on you.”

Tony took a drink and handed the bottle back to Bruce, swallowed, then sighed and tipped his head back, his hands loosely clenched around the edges of the bench seating. When Bruce eased the elastic strap over his head, he gently smoothed down Tony’s hair then leaned over and kissed him lightly on the forehead.

Clint said, “Oh. So when you say you took a look -.”

 

“I know you went to the doctor yesterday, and I know Happy had a prescription filled for you,” Bruce said putting the soymilk back in the refrigerator. He joined Tony at the island with his granola and tea. Tony didn’t reply, just continued slowly stretching his neck and shoulders, wincing at the pull and ache. In front of him, his coffee sat untouched. He was wearing at least three layers of shirts that Bruce could see, and he still looked cold. “Will you please just try the medication?” Bruce said. “I don’t like knowing that you’re hurting, and I can’t do anything about it.”

“I’m fine,” Tony replied stoically. “Just give me some time to get limbered up, and you won’t even know the difference.”

Bruce gestured with his spoon. “I _will_ know the difference because I know that, no matter how _limber_ you are, you’re in pain. When you don’t need to be.”

“Maybe I do need to be.” Tony ran the fingers of one hand up and down the side of his coffee cup, feeling the heat. Then, as Bruce watched, he pulled the hand back against his body.

“What?” Bruce asked, already knowing what Tony was saying. He heard the echoes of it in himself every day.

Tony shrugged. “Just … you know.” He put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders.

“No, I really don’t. Why would you need to be in pain?” Bruce could feel the velocity of his pulse picking up, so he took a deep breath.

“I figured you’d get it, Big Green. Aren’t you always talking about the need to atone?” Tony frowned down at his feet.

The room went perfectly still, like a photo printed on paper and stuck up on the wall and then forgotten. Time ticked over for a few long moments. Then Bruce sighed and said, “That’s different.”

“No, it isn’t.” Bruce scowled at him then, his fists tense on his hips. Tony added, “Look, if I had the source code, I’d change my programming, but that’s how I feel.”

“You’re not a robot, Tony. You might wish you were, but you’re not an AI.”

“But I’m not that different from one,” Tony said, obviously amused by the turn the conversation had taken. “I even have an interchangeable hard outer shell and running lights.” He pulled his right hand out of his pocket, then his left, and reached with both of them for his coffee mug. “Maybe I’m just a philosophical zombie,” he offered.

“You’re not.”

“Then what am I?” He lifted the mug and took a small sip.

“You’re someone special, no, just listen. You’re someone I’ve come to care about a lot. Someone I trust. Someone who challenges me, isn’t afraid to contradict me.” He frowned when Tony shrugged dismissively. “You are important to me. I gave up the illusion of freedom to stay here with you and I have never regretted it.” When Tony let the mug rest on the countertop again, Bruce clasped his hands around Tony’s, trapping them between the warmth of the ceramic and his gamma-induced body heat. Tony sighed, tipping his head back with a slight smile.

“That is very nice. OK. Why is physics like sex, Bruce?”

“It may give some practical results, but that’s not why we do it,” Bruce replied softly.

“What’s the practical result in our case?”

“To keep you close to me. To keep you safe.”

“Putting aside that both you and I know there’s no such thing as safety, what about the other reason we do it?” Tony quirked an eyebrow, gently disengaging his fingers and swinging around so that he was facing Bruce.

“To hear those little needy noises,” Bruce breathed. “To feel you move under my hands.” He could already feel the gathering tightness in his body. “Don’t think, by the way, that I didn’t notice the massive deflection there. Because I did.”

“Friendly reminder, Bruce. I’m still waiting for you to fuck me,” Tony said conversationally.

“Hm, what if your faves are problematic?” Bruce answered, moving in closer until he could feel Tony’s breath ghosting across his skin.

“I’m sure they are,” Tony replied, his lips barely moving. “One of them has a tendency to try to disappear. He’s a photon. He packs light.”

“Maybe he’ll stick around,” Bruce said seriously. “Now that he has something to lose.” He nudged Tony’s thighs apart with his body and pressed close against the other man, acutely aware that they could be interrupted at any moment.

JARVIS broke into the moment, sounding almost apologetic. “Sir, Mr. Barton is under the impression that you are in the workshop and he is currently sitting on the floor outside of the door waiting for you to let him in.” He paused. “He is making a great deal of noise and it is upsetting the bots.”

“My fragile babies.” Tony rolled his eyes. “Seriously? What now?”

“Would you like to speak with him, Sir?”

“Not really, but go ahead. Clint, what the fuck?” Bruce frowned at him and shook his head slightly and Tony shrugged.

“Let me in, Stark.” His tone was raw.

“I’m not even in the workshop. I’m in the kitchen and -.”

“Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re always in your damn worksh-.”

“Clint,” Bruce interrupted calmly, “Tony and I are in the kitchen. What do you need?” He raised an eyebrow at Tony when no answer was forthcoming.

“JARVIS, what’s the situation?”

“Mr. Barton appears to be in some distress.” There was a brief pause and then JARVIS admitted, "He did not sleep last night."

“God damn it, J. If you're going to do useful things like spy on people, you might as well clue me in when there's a problem,” Tony said tiredly. “OK, keep an eye on him and I’ll be there in a few.” He turned to Bruce. “Sorry, bae.”

Bruce goggled at him, “Um, no. Please don’t do that.” Tony laughed as he left the kitchen and Bruce followed him with a sigh.

 

Clint was sitting on the floor, his back to the darkened glass of the workshop, his forearms propped on his knees and his hands dangling loosely from his wrists. He didn’t look up when Tony breezed past him and inputted his code on the alphanumeric holographic pad that JARVIS projected on the glass, but he did slowly climb to his feet and follow the older man inside. Bruce followed a few steps behind.

“OK, Clint, think fast. What's the difference between an auto mechanic and a quantum mechanic?”

Clint muttered, “You know I don’t know what that is.” He sat heavily on a stool as Tony gestured for JARVIS to light up his displays. Bruce pulled over a tablet and brought up an article he had been reading.

“Oh come on. That’s a good one, too! The quantum mechanic can get the car inside the garage without opening the door.” Tony frowned. “Nothing? Not even a rueful smile?” He lifted one shoulder and cocked his head. “Are you here to talk arrows?” Clint nodded shortly.

Bruce cleared his throat, not looking up from his tablet, “Where does bad light end up?”

Clint shrugged silently.

“In prism.” Bruce smiled as Tony groaned and even Clint cracked a small grin.

“Is this what you two do down here all the time?” Clint grumbled, starting to relax.

JARVIS interjected politely, “If I may, I also have a joke.”

“OK, J. This should be good.”

“A husband is discouraged by his wife's fixation with mathematics. Afraid of being secondary in her affections to her profession, he finally confronts her. He says, ‘Do you love math more than me?’ ‘Of course not, dear - I love you much more!’ Skeptically he challenges her, saying, ‘Prove it!’ After thinking for a short time, she responds, ‘Ok... Let epsilon be greater than zero...’”

Tony laughed, opening his Clint Projects folder and spinning out several designs. “Now that’s a good one! OK. Infinitely many mathematicians walk into a bar. The first says, ‘I'll have a beer.’ The second says, ‘I'll have half a beer.’ The third says, ‘I'll have a quarter of a beer.’ The barman pulls out just two beers. The mathematicians say, ‘That's all you're giving us? How drunk do you expect us to get on that?’ The bartender says, "Come on guys. Know your limits." He gestured for Clint to manipulate the wire frame of one of his more theoretical arrow designs.

Bruce chuckled, swiping one hand across the surface of his tablet. “Nice. A converging infinite series. Here’s one. A mathematician, a physicist, and an engineer are all given identical rubber balls and told to find the volume. They are given any tools they want to measure it, and have all the time they need. The mathematician pulls out a measuring tape and records the circumference. He then divides by two times pi to get the radius, cubes that, multiplies by pi again, and then multiplies by four-thirds and calculates the volume. The physicist gets a container of water, places 1.00000 gallons of water in it, drops in the ball and measures the displacement to six significant figures. The engineer?” Tony looked over with an expectant smile on his face. “He writes down the serial number of the ball, and looks it up.”

Clint laughed. “That one I get … sort of. That’s funny.” He tweaked the arrowhead design a bit, expanding his view so he could peer into the inner workings.

Watching Clint’s actions closely, Tony said, “No free rides. It’s your turn.” He reached out and swapped a component in the arrowhead and Clint nodded thoughtfully.

Clint thought for a moment. “What does the little mermaid wear?” Both Tony and Bruce looked mystified. “An algebra.”


	8. Chapter 8

The next morning, Tony wandered down to the common area kitchen to discover that Bruce was not present. Natasha, Steve and Clint were all there, apparently getting ready to eat breakfast. “Where’s the big guy?” he asked nonchalantly as he leaned against the counter and waited for his coffee to brew. He rubbed one hand over the back of his neck, wincing slightly when it pulled the tightness in his chest.

“I can’t believe you’re gracing us with your presence,” Natasha teased, dropping a muffin onto the counter next to Tony’s elbow. When he looked askance, she gave it a meaningful look. “Eat it. Steve made them from scratch.”

Tony picked the muffin up to examine it. “Where are the chocolate sprinkles?”

“It’s not a cupcake,” Steve said, turning briefly away from the pan of bacon he was cooking. “Try it. It’s vegan.”

Clint picked his head up from where it was pillowed on his crossed arms and muttered, “They aren’t bad. Surprisingly.” He tilted his head to peer up at Tony. “You stayed up even later than Bruce and me, Tony. I know you were still in the lab when I went to bed. I didn’t think we’d see you at all today.”

Tony poured coffee. “Manners, Barton. We don’t put our elbows on the table. JARVIS, is Bruce in his lab?” He took a sip.

There was a brief pause. “Dr. Banner has requested that he be allowed to sleep in.”

“OK. No problem. I’m so glad I rolled out of bed for … vegan muffins.” Tony sighed. “Why the hell am I awake then?” He drained half of his coffee, filled the cup up again, and took a bite of the muffin. “Mmmm. Disgusting. I’ll be in the workshop.” He swept out of the kitchen, leaving the remains of the muffin on the countertop.

“Charming as always, Stark!” Clint called after him.

 

Tony spent the day working on the endless stream of smaller projects that never seemed to dry up. At first, he kept an eye on the door, hoping that Bruce might appear. However, it became evident when lunchtime came and went with no visitors that he wouldn’t be seeing Bruce today. He arched his back and stretched, rubbing his chest, then reached for his tablet again.

“It is past time for your medication, Sir,” JARVIS reminded him. “DUM-E would be overjoyed to make you a smoothie to accompany it. He has been experimenting with avocados.”

“I’ll just bet he has. I don’t feel like playing smoothie roulette today,” Tony replied, scrolling through his to do list. “And I don’t think I need the pain meds today.”

“And your anxiety medication?”

“Give it a rest, J. I’m fine. I’ll have an early dinner.” He pushed the tablet aside, swept one hand through the air and filed away the latest completed project before pulling up the next item on his list. “If I need them, I’ll take the meds then.”

There was a brief pause and then JARVIS said, “Contacting, Miss Potts.”

“What? No! JARVIS -.”

“Tony? Is everything OK? I’ve been getting completion alerts from you all morning. You even finished the R&D review backlog!”

Tony pressed his fingers into his temples. “Yeah, I’ve been busy. Catching up on work.”

“Is everything OK?” she asked again cautiously.

“JARVIS seems to think that I need you to keep me in line.”

“It is irresponsible for you to put other people in charge of making sure you take your prescribed medications, but as long as you persist in doing so then I will work my way down your contact list,” JARVIS said.

“I’m sorry, Pep. The baby is being fractious today,” Tony said. “I need to get back to work, and I know you’re busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you, Tony,” Pepper said warmly. “Be good and take your meds. Bye, JARVIS.”

“OK, Pep.” He ended the call.

“Calling Lieutenant Colonel Rhodes.”

“No! Cut it out!” There was a long silence and Tony sighed with relief. “What the hell, J?”

“You are not eating and not taking your medication because Dr. Banner is not available to remind you and insist that you do so. This concerns me. He may not always be here, and you do not seem to want to make the effort on your own behalf.”

Tony said slowly, “Do you know something I don’t, JARVIS?”

“Of course.”

“Smug. About Bruce?” Dejected, Tony slumped against the edge of the work table.

“Yes. And I have promised to keep his confidence unless it negatively impacts you. Please don’t make me break my word.”

“Emotional blackmail. Nice.” Tony straightened, pulled his shoulders back and braced his palms on the table.

“I learned from the best.”

“You are just full of ouchies today, aren’t you? Remind me again why I thought it would be fun to be a parent.”

 

 

“What’s this?” Bruce asked tiredly. “Physical media?” He tapped the CD lightly against the armrest of the couch.

Tony shrugged. “You seem to like old timey stuff. I probably have some black and white photos around here someplace, too.” He rocked back on his heels and pulled a smile up from somewhere.

“Hey, don’t deflect. I’m teasing. What is it?” Bruce turned the unlabeled disc over in his hands trying to feign interest.

“Lullabies of Birdland. Ella Fitzgerald. Jarvis always said this was her best.” Tony shrugged. “I burned you a copy from the LP I have that used to belong to him.”

“JARVIS?” Bruce asked, confusion warring with apathy.

“Jarvis 1.0. The original. He and his wife Ana used to listen to a lot of jazz and bebop, stuff I didn’t have much patience for at the time. Looking back … ah, huh, you actually caught me being a little nostalgic. Weird. Anyway … anyway, I thought you’d like it. It’s a classic.” He cocked his head to the side. “So … I’ve got some … uh … stuff going on so I’m just gonna … I’ll see you around, Big Green.”

“Hold on … Tony.” Bruce scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Do you have time to just sit here with me? We don’t have to talk. I just …”

Tony stared at him. “Um … yeah?”

“Really?”

“No, I do. I just … people don’t usually turn to me for emotional support.”

“What makes you think I want emotional support?”

Tony let one shoulder drop and took a step toward Bruce. “Well, you’ve been even more closed off than usual … I’m not being a dick here. I know I’m like that, too, believe me. I’ve heard all about it. It’s just … you haven’t seemed to want to talk or do science or … whatever.” He leaned back on his heels. “You stayed on your floor all day Tuesday and yesterday you only came out for meals and didn’t want to talk. Today -.”

Bruce reached out a hand. “Tony, come sit with me. I’m not avoiding you. It’s just … my black dog has been hounding me.” He smiled a little.

Tony let out a sigh and sat down next to him, pressed against his side. “OK,” he replied. “I know all about that.” They sat in silence for a while.

“You know Steve believes in God, right,” Bruce finally said. “He caught me staring out the window and moping and basically told me I should go to church to find comfort. To find answers.”

Tony gave a brief laugh. “Helpful.”

“Yeah. Not so much.” Bruce turned the CD over again between his fingers. “Tell me a joke.”

Tony sat in thought for a moment, then he rolled his head over so that his cheekbone rested against Bruce’s shoulder. “One day, Jesus said to his disciples, ‘The Kingdom of Heaven is like 3x squared plus 8x minus 9.’ St. Thomas looked very confused and asked St. Peter, ‘What does he mean?’ St. Peter replied, ‘Don't worry - it's just another one of his parabolas.’” Bruce snorted and ran his fingertips over his lips thoughtfully.

“Another.”

“A mathematician, an engineer, and a computer scientist are on a road trip together. They’re riding in a car, when suddenly the engine stops working. The mathematician says, ‘We passed a gas station a few minutes ago. At our average rate of speed it’s not too far for someone to go back and ask for help.’ The engineer says, ‘I should have a look at the engine. I bet I can fix it.’ The computer scientist says, ‘Why don't we just open the doors, slam them shut, and see if everything works again?’”

Bruce smiled.

Encouraged, Tony went on. “A physicist and the engineer are in a beautiful red and gold hot-air balloon. Let’s call them Dr. Banner and Dr. Stark,” Tony said, leaning harder into Bruce’s side. He could feel Bruce’s chuckle. “Soon, they find themselves lost in a canyon somewhere. They yell for help. ‘Hello! Where are we?’ They do this repeatedly. Nothing. Dr. Banner is getting nervous, and Dr. Stark is pretending to be a lot more confident than he really feels. Finally, fifteen minutes later, they hear a distant voice say, ‘Hello! You're in a hot-air balloon!’ Dr. Banner says, ‘That must have been a mathematician.’ Dr. Stark asks, ‘Why do you say that? His science bro replies, ‘The answer was absolutely correct … and completely useless.’”

“You know the Hulk would just grab you and jump to the ground, right?”

“I like to think that I can occasionally rescue myself and my handsome prince, too.” Tony smiled against Bruce’s shirt.

Bruce cleared his throat and said softly, “A mathematician was put in a room. In the room there was a table and three metal spheres about the size of softballs. He was told to do whatever he wanted with the balls - stop it, Tony! And whatever he wanted with the table for one hour. After an hour, the balls were arranged in a triangle at the center of the table. He was released from the room. The same test was given to a physicist. After an hour, the balls were stacked one on top of the other in the center of the table.” He kissed the top of Tony’s head and rested his cheek against the other man’s hair. “Finally, an engineer -.”

“Finally!”

“Hush … finally, an engineer was tested. After an hour, one of the balls was broken, one was missing, and he was caught carrying the third one out in his lunchbox.” Bruce picked up one of Tony’s hands and ran his fingers over the tiny nicks and scars.

“That sounds about right,” Tony said contentedly. “I’m sorry.”

Bruce squeezed his fingers slightly. “Don’t be. Just sit with me here.” He sighed. “I just … do you ever think that it’s possible to be too … this is going to sound bad, really arrogant. Is it possible to be too smart?”

Tony considered. “Too smart to do the work we need to do? No. Too smart to be happy? Probably. Too smart to successfully cope with reality? Definitely.” He laced his fingers with Bruce’s. “Did I ever tell you how I met Rhodey? No? He saved my life.” Bruce pulled back and stared at him. “Don’t look at me like that. Just … don’t. He’s actually saved it several times. No big deal.” He eased Bruce back down so they were leaning comfortably together. “But this was the first time. I was too young to be at MIT by myself, and there was nobody there that gave a shit about me. My money, my name, sure. Me, not so much.” He smiled. “I know … poor little rich boy. I had just come back to campus from the first of many holidays where there wasn’t anybody at home. Obie … Obadiah, Howard’s business partner, had brought me back to campus early because my parents were in Europe and hadn’t expected me to come home for Thanksgiving. I was feeling sorry for myself, and I decided to go to a party and get completely fucked up. So I did. And I started running my mouth and before I knew it I was on my back on the floor with three supremely pissed off upperclassmen standing over me.” He laughed. “I’m really bad at, you know, interpersonal stuff.”

Bruce muttered, “Me, too. I never fit in with people my age.”

“Not even the nerds?” Tony said curiously. “Your Trekkie D&D Lord of the Rings posse?”

“No.” Bruce closed his eyes. “I was a very angry kid. I … you know I tried to blow up my school?”

Tony grinned. “Just my type. I wish I had known you then.”

“You wouldn’t have liked me,” Bruce murmured.

“How do you know that? Maybe I would’ve scored me a sexy brooding nerd boyfriend with anger issues.”

Bruce smiled. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t have been good for you back then.”

“Same.” Tony elbowed him gently. “Just as well that we met _after_ we had solved all of our personal issues.” Bruce sighed and adjusted his stance so that he had one arm wrapped firmly around the other man, pulling him close.

“I have been thinking a lot about who I really am. I’m not who I wanted to be … who I thought I was. I … I can’t make peace with what I have become … but I have to if I’m going to move forward.” Bruce brushed his lips against Tony’s hair again. “You know how sometimes, in the middle of what seems like an ordinary day, you get those self-destructive thoughts out of nowhere?” Tony nodded without speaking. “The other day I was finishing up yoga and thinking about lab time with you and a million other things and then I realized I was making all of these assumptions. That I would be _me_ all day. That I deserved to be here with you, and the others.” His voice hitched, but he pushed on. “And I thought, wouldn’t it have been better if I could’ve succeeded at destroying myself?” He ended in a whisper.

Tony sighed. “Not better for me. I hope not better for you.”

“I don’t deserve this life, Tony.”

“First of all, you do. Secondly, you deserve it a hell of a lot more than I do. And third, you don’t have to deserve your life. It belongs to you. And, in your case, the Other Guy.” Bruce frowned at that.

“I’m no better than Doom, Tony. I was so angry at him when he was willing to sacrifice that orphanage. But at least he’s honest. Every day that I’m alive I’m saying that I’m willing to sacrifice any innocents who are unfortunate enough to cross the Hulk’s path.”

“Do you really think that, or are you just feeling sorry for yourself?” Tony nudged him.

“A little of both,” Bruce admitted. “I just sometimes wish I had made different decisions.”

“Me, too, Honey. Me, too.” They sat for a while, just breathing, each man lost in his own thoughts.

Bruce could swear that JARVIS sounded long-suffering when he broke the silence. “Sir, I apologize for the interruption, but Captain Rogers has sounded the Avengers alert.”

“I didn’t hear the alarm.”

“I silenced the alarm on this floor in favor of notifying you myself.”

“What is it this time?” Tony sounded exhausted, and Bruce looked at him closely.

“I am afraid that it is Dr. von Doom again.”

“Seriously? That guy never quits. This is getting old.”

 

Clint grimaced. “I hate this motherfucker. Shouldn’t you be in Latveria, motherfucker?!”

“Hawkeye, watch your language,” Steve snapped. “We have media nearby.” He ran his palms over the edge of his shield and tugged on the straps. “OK, Iron Man, your call. Is he hostile?”

Tony ran another scan. “Probably. Even when he’s trying to be friendly he’s pretty hostile.” He ascended so that he was hovering at the same height as Doom. “What’s up, Vic?” he called. “Forget something? Like, I don’t know, to tell me thank you?”

“Doom has no desire to fight you. Doom has decided to defend New York City since you may not be well enough to do so yourself.”

“What the fuck?” Tony said, distantly aware of Steve’s grunt of displeasure over the comm. “You can go back to Latveria, then, because you are definitely not needed here.”

“Doom has an interview with several media outlets scheduled for 5:30. Your presence is not needed.”

Natasha laughed, “Well, if that’s really the case, then let’s leave him to it.” She gestured. “Come on, Iron Man. Let’s head back.”

Grumbling, Tony turned in the air and jetted back toward the tower.

 

“Doom has nothing but pity for Tony Stark. It is very likely that he has been driven mad and lost his creative spark due to his advanced age and the numerous injuries he has sustained.” Doom paused, turning his mask to look directly into the camera. “This is why Doom is prepared to assume the heroic mantle of Iron Man so that Stark may retire and tend to his health.”

The camera cut away to the CNN studio where Anderson Cooper was looking amused. “I imagine this will be news to Mr. Stark.”

Steve said, “Switch it off, Clint. Are you OK, Tony?”

“Are you kidding me?” Tony demanded, irritated. “Doom is calling me out on CNN after I helped him? Again? Don’t they have real news to cover?”

Steve replied hesitantly, “He says he wants to be a hero … like you?”

“Oh nice, thanks Steve. Way to poke at my insecurities,” Tony snapped, downing his drink and pouring another one. “Don’t mind me. I’m just going to take a swig of poison and like it.”

Natasha said, “Less self-pity, more Tom Waits.” She held out her empty glass and waggled it until he filled it.

“Like that one, do you? Here’s another. Don't ask for nothing. As in, I don’t ask for anything except, I don’t know, maybe don’t fuck with me? Too much to ask?” He swallowed the majority of his drink. “Why would the media even talk to him? Why didn’t the police arrest him?”

Bruce said mildly, “Try not to let it get to you.”

“Bruce,” Tony said, “I fucking hate Doom.”

“I do too, after what happened in Latveria. But … what if he really does want to change? Don’t we have a responsibility to encourage that?” Bruce asked.

“He’s not going to change,” Tony said bitterly. “No one ever really does.”

“Bullshit,” said Steve, staring into his drink. “What? You guys act like I wasn’t in the military or something. I swear, just not often. Anyway, Tony, that’s bullshit. You are the biggest example in the room of someone changing. For the better!” He turned his glass around. “I know I’ve apologized already, but I truly am sorry for how I misjudged you when we first met.”

“Just …” Tony held up a hand. “Just stop.”

“We can all change for the better. We just have to make the choice and then stick with it,” Steve continued.

“How inspirational, Cap,” Tony said, his tone bitter, as he threw back another drink. They all sat silently for a while, each person lost in his or her own thoughts.

“Does it feel to anyone else like we are fighting the same battle over and over again?” Steve finally said wearily.

Clint offered, “You know, at this point I’m OK with shooting to kill if it keeps him from turning up every week.”

Bruce said, clasping his hands together loosely, “Actually what it feels like is that all of this is pointless. These escalating threats only happen to because we exist. If we disappeared, maybe the threats would, too.”

Tony set his glass down on the bar next to the bottle. “I disagree.”  He thought for a moment, then he added, “Someone important once told me that I had a second chance at life and I shouldn’t waste it. That there had to be a reason I was here.”

“There is no reason,” Bruce replied. “There is no deeper meaning, to any of this. It’s action and reaction, an unending chain of cause and effect that we’re caught up in.”

Steve looked troubled, even as Clint raised a glass in a silent toast. “That’s … that’s so defeatist,” Tony said. “You don’t really think that.”

“You know an arms race when you see one, Tony. Tell me that’s not what this is,” Bruce demanded. “The only difference is who is making money off of it.”

Tony blinked. “That was kind of close to the bone,” he said coolly. “Put away the knives, Big Green. I’m on your side.”

Bruce frowned. “Then don’t talk to me about reasons. What is the reason for me turning myself into a monster?”

Tony started to speak, then stopped and looked at him. Then he said, “Why is it best to teach physics on the edge of a cliff?”

“I don’t know, Tony. Why is it best to teach physics at the edge of a cliff?” Bruce parroted wearily.

“Because that’s where students have the most potential.”

Natasha giggled, and everyone turned to stare at her in surprise. “What? That one was funny.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Referenced: https://xkcd.com/1074/

Tony walked around the bar and tucked Bruce against his body, feeling the slighter man startle at the first touch and tense on his stool before he finally relaxed. He rested his lips against the crown of Bruce’s head, feeling the huff of the other man’s breath against his neck and collarbones and repressing the urge to shiver a little. Ignoring the variety of looks the rest of the team was giving them, Tony said, “You’re not a monster.” When Bruce opened his mouth to protest, he repeated firmly, “You’re not a monster.” Bruce shook his head slightly but stayed silent. “I’m sorry, Bruce. I’m sorry.”

Clint whistled. “I didn’t know Tony Stark did apologies.” Tony ignored his interjection.

“That’s because you don’t know me, Hawkeye,” Tony replied mildly. “Not really. Not your fault. The report you read? I was not at my best when it was compiled.” He shrugged carefully, not looking at Natasha. “Very few people really know me; I like it that way.”

Clint finished his drink, his gaze on Tony steady.

“That sounds lonely,” Steve remarked with a grimace. “I hope we know you better than you think we do.” He ran his palm along the side of his glass.

Tony smiled against Bruce’s curls, stray hairs tickling his lips. “Nope, Cap. You don’t. And probably you never will.” Bruce pushed Tony’s sleeve up toward his elbow and ran his fingertips lightly over the bruises on the other man’s forearm.

“You don’t have to wear a mask here, Tony,” Steve said earnestly. “You can let your guard down.”

Tony laughed in response, brief and sharp. “What world do you even come from, Steve, that you would think that’s true?” Clint nodded his head slightly, his eyes narrowed, and then glanced sideways at Natasha. Tony released Bruce and stepped back. “Workshop or penthouse, Brucie Bear?”

Bruce got up slowly, his arms dropping down to his sides. “Penthouse.” He reached out and twined his fingers with Tony’s and gave a small tug. “Penthouse.”

After they left, Natasha said thoughtfully, “I’m not sure how I feel about the explosive possibilities of that relationship.”

“It’s not really our business,” Steve said with a shrug. “Anyway, they both seem happier. So there’s that.” He reached across the bar and poured himself another drink. Clint slid his glass over and Steve refilled his as well. Natasha put an elbow on the bar and rested her chin against her palm.

“It’s funny,” Natasha replied. “We assumed that the two of them would either hate each other on sight or else they would work together effectively. Coulson was the one who said they’d be the perfect working partnership.”

Clint took a drink and said, “He was right about that.”

“Well, they are and they aren’t.”

“C’mon, Nat. You’ve seen them in the field together. They’re in synch,” Clint replied.

“Simpatico,” Steve murmured. “They fell into working together easily, without baggage. He frowned, “Unlike me.”

“That,” said Natasha decisively, “is not your fault, Steve. That is Howard Stark’s fault and Nick Fury’s fault and … mine, too.”

“And mine,” said Steve. “But Tony’s, too.” He grinned, “Maybe what they both have in common is that they’re both minefields of anger, ego, and unresolved issues.”

“Skål!” said Clint. “I will fucking drink to that.”

 

 

Both men were silent in the elevator, although they watched each other. When the doors opened, Tony gestured for Bruce to precede him into the penthouse. Still without speaking, Bruce stopped and looked across the open space to the windows, the sparkle of the city stretched out below and before them mirroring the faint stars hanging in the darkness above. He finally spoke, “There are places in the world where you can still look up and see the span of the Milky Way. No light pollution.” He walked to the windows and stood a few inches from the glass, looking out into the dark. “It’s beautiful. Something in the sky to remind us of our place in the universe.”

Tony took his place next to Bruce. “Maybe it’s beautiful … and maybe it isn’t. Honestly, I don’t know if I could deal with that anymore. This view is bad enough.” He reached out and placed a palm lightly on the glass at shoulder level, the muscles in the back of his hand and along his arm flexing minutely. “JARVIS,” he said and the glass darkened slightly. The city lights shone faintly through, but the stars were gone.

Bruce nodded. “The portal? And what came through it?”

“And what’s beyond it. Yeah …” Tony shrugged. “But no one wants to hear about that.” He laughed briefly. “Just have to suck it up and make plans for the future. Be Tony Stark.”

Bruce leaned forward slightly on his toes, then back. “Are you tired?”

“I could sleep.” Tony looked at him.

Together, they turned their backs on the night and walked to the bedroom. Tony left the door open behind them, the penthouse silent and empty. “JARVIS, quarter lights, please. And let me see some stars in here.” The smartglass morphed to a translucent deep gray.

“If it bothers you -,” Bruce started.

“It’s fine.”

Bruce sighed as he looked around the room. Then he visibly steeled himself, setting his shoulders and raising his chin.  “I am a monster, though.” Tony sat him on the edge of the bed and then backed away a couple of steps. “We can gloss over it and make Hulk plushies all we want, but I know the truth. And so do you. I have some control over him … myself-,” his voice faltered and he fell silent for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and continued, “But never 100% control. And once I slip, I can’t hold him back. I can’t control what he … what I do.”

“Bruce …. “ Tony trailed off, uncertain of what to say. He ran the knuckles of his right hand over his right eyebrow, pressing against the headache that was forming.

“It’s … well, it isn’t OK, but … I have mostly come to terms with it. The fact that I might hurt someone. The loneliness. The loss of control.” He glanced over at Tony. “Can I tell you something and you won’t get angry?”

Tony nodded, sitting down on the ottoman and resting his forearms on his knees.

“I never understood how people who like to get drunk could stand it. I do everything in my power to maintain control all of the time and … and you just throw it away, like it’s nothing, like it doesn’t matter.” He took another deep breath. “My dad used to do that.”

Tony replied quietly, his chin tipped down, “Mine, too.”

Bruce shook his head. He replied with a flash of resentment, “Not like mine.” He looked down at his trembling fingers.

“It’s not a contest, Big Guy,” Tony said carefully.

“Isn’t everything a contest with you?” Bruce responded angrily. “An opportunity for you to make everyone else look small?”

Tony made a face and spread his hands, palms turned toward Bruce. “Hey -.”

With quick, sharp words, Bruce continued in a rush, “You’re so sensitive about your father and his legacy, but you’re doing everything in your power to live the same life he did.” His hands shook and he felt his pulse beating in his throat, in his temples.

“Wow. I’m going to quote xkcd and say that burn was so harsh I think you deorbited.” He pointed at Bruce. “That was completely unnecessary. You know I’m a million … no, a billion times better than him.”

“Oh, yeah. Let’s play that game,” Bruce said dismissively. “Make jokes. You be the sarcastic asshole so you don’t have to deal with the truth. How well does that work for you?” He looked past Tony at the faint echo of the stars behind the glass.

“Well, I’m not the one doing the impromptu personality assessment, and I’m sure as hell not the one trying once again to be Captain America. Did you compare notes with him so you would have something to say?”

Stung, Bruce said, “Fuck you, Tony. Maybe you should stop poking me. You might not like what you get.”

Tony took a deep breath and stared at him in silence for a long moment. “I’m not the only one good at deflecting.” He leaned back slightly. “Does it really bother you when I drink, Bruce?” Tony lifted one hand and rubbed his upper chest, above the protruding rim of the arc reactor and shifted his shoulders. Bruce tracked the motion and felt his anger drain down through the center of his body, leaving him feeling empty and light-headed. Tony repeated, a little impatiently, “Does it bother you?”

Bruce shook his head again, but followed that with a softly enunciated, “Yes. I know you sometimes use it to help with pain relief … but it does bother me some.”

“OK.” Tony ran his fingers through his hair and blew out a nervous breath. “I can stop. Probably.” He grimaced. “Maybe. I can try.” He sighed, deciding to be frank. “I just don’t like taking the meds.”

“I know. You don’t have to change for me,” Bruce protested weakly, his anger and his energy gone. “What if I’m gone tomorrow?”

“What if _I’m_ gone tomorrow? Let’s face it, depending on the mission, that’s far more likely,” Tony returned roughly. He swallowed, then added, “I don’t want to waste the time we do have.” He looked down at his palms, at the tiny scars on his fingertips, then looked up at the other man. “Bruce?” he said earnestly.

“What?” Bruce said quietly, exhausted, his nerves tingling with quiet anxiety; he was afraid of whatever revelation might come next.

“If I were a neurotransmitter, I would be dopamine so I could activate your reward pathway.”

Bruce stared at him in disbelief. “What?”

“You must be gibberellin, because I'm experiencing some stem elongation.” Tony leered at Bruce. “Get it? Because you’re green and you make me har-.”

Bruce interrupted him, “Are you seriously coming on to me in the middle of a conversation about -.”

“About feelings? Why, yes I am. You chose penthouse and instead of making use of my extremely sturdy California king all we’ve done is argue and bleed emotions!” Tony raised an eyebrow suggestively. “Dr. Banner, what do you call a snake that’s exactly 3.14 feet long?”

Bruce scoffed, a grin breaking out on his face. “That’s easy. A πthon.” He stretched his back. “So does that mean no more crying on each other’s shoulders tonight?”

“Exactly. Crisis averted. I’m not sleepy, are you? Let’s go blow something up.” Tony stood up. “Unless my sexy science talk got to you. In which case, call me DNA helicase because I can't wait to unzip your genes."

Bruce looked up at him from his seat on the edge of the bed. “So my choices are pointless destruction in the workshop or cheesy sex with you?” He pretended to consider as Tony came closer, moving forward until he was within reach.

Tony grinned down at him and said, “The lines are cheesy. The sex won’t be. JARVIS, no interruptions please.” Then he slid to his knees.

 

 

“Good morning, team,” Tony said pleasantly as he made his way to the coffee machine, trailed by Bruce.

“You’re awfully cheerful,” Clint remarked suspiciously. “What are you up to?”

“It’s because I got lucky last night,” Tony said casually.

Natasha silently raised a fist for Bruce to bump as he walked by while Steve rolled his eyes and grinned. After his first ecstatic sip of coffee, Tony looked at Bruce and said, “I was going to tell a joke about sodium, but Na.”

Bruce ducked his head and grinned while the others just looked puzzled. “You’ll have to excuse Tony,” he said. “He tells chemistry jokes periodically.” He smiled when Natasha shook her head in mock despair.

“So I feel like today I want to deal with this Doom thing,” Tony said making loose circles in the air with his free hand. “Because I’m tired of him popping up, and it seems like the universe wants us to slap him down.”

“Amen,” muttered Clint. “What are we going to do? Kick his ass back to Latveria?”

Bruce said quietly, “That would be satisfying. Ineffectual, but satisfying. Besides, they probably don’t want him either.”

JARVIS interrupted, “There is an incoming call from Director Fury and might I suggest you turn on a reputable news channel?”

Clint scrambled for the remote and Steve sighed and crossed his arms. “OK. JARVIS, put him through please.”

Tony caught Bruce’s eye and quirked a brow at him. “Wanna bet?” Bruce shook his head.

Steve cleared his throat. “Director Fury, what’s the mission?”

“It seems we have an idiot in a suit of armor trying to take on a supervillain in a highly populated area and he needs a little help with the job,” Fury said dryly.

Tony barked out a laugh, “I haven’t left the Tower all morning, Nick.”

“Not _my_ armored idiot,” Nick replied sharply. “It’s your friend who keeps using the media to pull your pigtails. I think he likes you, Stark.”

“Yay,” Clint cheered sarcastically.  “We were just talking about him. I guess the universe really does want us to slap him down.” His eyes were fixed on the footage of Doom fighting what looked like a giant. “Does the guy he’s fighting have … babies for arms?” he asked in horrified fascination. “That’s just wrong. How would that even work? How does he wipe his butt?”

“Way to elevate the conversation, Barton,” Tony said, staring at the screen and then glancing at the information JARVIS was porting to his phone.

Fury growled, “The time for talking is done. I want _that_ idiot in custody. He’s currently violating at least 2 federal statues, 7 state laws, and 12 city ordinances. Bring him in.”

“With pleasure,” Steve said firmly, looking around the room to meet everyone else’s eyes in turn.

Clint whistled, glancing back at the TV. “What the ever loving fuck is that thing anyway?”

JARVIS responded, “I believe he calls himself Master Pandemonium.”

“That,” said Tony, gazing at the repeating footage, “is horrifying. That is really … wow. I take it back about the butt thing, Hawkeye. That is a decent question after all.” He said, “I’ll get the suit and meet you there.”

“Let’s go, Avengers,” Steve snapped, all business. “Assemble!”  


 

 

“OK, JARVIS. What have we got?” Tony said, stepping off the side of the tower and freefalling against the ache in his chest until he had cleared the overhang and could engage the boot thrusters. Above him and to the right he could hear the quinjet’s engines thrumming deeply as Clint prepared to take off. He sent a pulse through the comm system to check for connectivity and was rewarded with a set of cascading pings that told him everyone’s comm was functional.

“Master Pandemonium apparently serves as the host for a set of demons which manifest in the place of his limbs. He is attempting to recover missing parts of his soul.”

“Oh come on! Demons? Soul? J, give me the real skinny,” Tony protested. “It’s too early in the morning for a theological discussion.”

“I am merely giving you the official stance.”

He banked a turn and curved toward the site of the conflict. “And the Wikipedia version?” There were a lot of low clouds, making the sky feel slightly claustrophobic.  

“I believe he is one of the many exceptional individuals who experimented upon himself with unforeseen consequences.” JARVIS flashed a quick procession of data sets across the HUD and Tony grabbed one with a rapid glance.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Tony smiled sardonically and ran the targeting mechanism through a swift series of tests. Then he ran back through the weather data and wind speed information JARVIS had thrown across his view.

JARVIS replied, “I was privy to your conversation with Dr. Banner last night, Sir.”

“Until it got heated and you peaced out, right?” Tony tracked the media reports flashing across the HUD next, looking to see what the view from the ground was like. “You know Big Green likes his privacy.”

“Precisely so, if by heated you mean the point at which you joined him on the bed. I believe even you would agree with me that better self-knowledge might preclude some self-experimentation.”

Tony winced. “Yeah. Let’s not air these thoughts in front of the big guy. He doesn’t need to hear about it. It won’t do him any good, and it’s not like he doesn’t already know.” He checked the HUD again to see where the quinjet was. “What’s our ETA?”

“Seventy-four seconds. We should arrive approximately 8 minutes before the rest of the Avengers.”

“Excellent! OK, J, here’s one for you. What did the electrical engineer say when he got shocked?”

“What did he say, Sir?”

“Ow, that hertz!”

“Hilarious, Sir,” JARVIS replied. “Target acquired.”  


**Author's Note:**

> Post-Avengers (not IM3,CA:WS, AoU or CA:CW compliant)  
> Practical Action  
> http://practicalaction.org/
> 
> Pain Scale  
> http://salonpas.us/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/painscale.jpg
> 
> Musical Inspiration  
> https://youtu.be/DoWyLXV88qs - Tom Waits, Falling Down (live)  
> https://youtu.be/kQF-zKFNamg - Ella Fitzgerald, It’s Only a Paper Moon (live)  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLho929_sQGKxbSHp47xmo19X1ycymhJzU – Ella Fitzgerald, Lullabies of Birdland
> 
> Artificial Intelligence  
> http://motherboard.vice.com/read/joke-telling-robots-are-the-final-frontier-of-artificial-intelligence
> 
> His Girl Friday  
> https://archive.org/details/his_girl_friday (Watch the whole movie! It’s in the public domain.)  
> https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/His_Girl_Friday
> 
> NASA  
> https://www.nal-jsc.org/sites/nal-jsc.org/files/apollo_hfr_vep_final_2015.pdf  
> http://arstechnica.com/science/2012/10/going-boldly-what-it-was-like-to-be-an-apollo-flight-controller/  
> https://www.scribd.com/publisher/29264412/Bob-Andrepont  
> http://spectrum.ieee.org/aerospace/space-flight/apollo-13-we-have-a-solution - How Mission Control saved the crew of Apollo 13. It’s a really good read. 
> 
> Synthetic Biology  
> https://soundcloud.com/nasa/lynn-rothschild-synthetic-biology Interview with Lynn Rothschild
> 
> Reality  
> https://www.quantamagazine.org/20160421-the-evolutionary-argument-against-reality/  
> http://www.ted.com/talks/donald_hoffman_do_we_see_reality_as_it_is?language=en  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Douglas_Hofstadter
> 
> The Hard Problem  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Qualia  
> https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stanislas_Dehaene
> 
> XFiles  
> https://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/The_X-Files
> 
> Self Reliance  
> https://math.dartmouth.edu/~doyle/docs/self/self.pdf - Self Reliance by Ralph Waldo Emerson


End file.
